In the Absence of the Sun
by Diego Chavez
Summary: The Wutai--Shinra war through the eyes of all the key players, including the now legendary Cid Highwind.
1. Ghost Town

Chapter 1

Ghost Town

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Authors note- Hey I had to rate it PG-13 cause of Cid's mouth. But I think I may tone down the swearing just so I don't have to rate this R next time or anything. Also I'd like to thank Anya a ton for helping me out with Cid's character. Hope you enjoy…

Once again I find myself flying the supply ship to one of the dinky little offices in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I swear that Coxley my supervisor has something against me. He always gives me these menial little jobs that no one gives a shit about.

But if I ever wanna graduate up to flying combat or something like that then I'll have to put up with this for a while longer. 

Quite how I ever got into Shinra, let alone piloting is beyond me. But I can't imagine a life without this so I guess it'll have to do for now.

My thinking was cut off abruptly by the radio. It was beeping which meant that someone wanted to talk to me; whether or not I'd want to talk to this person the radio _didn't_ indicate. I hit the button to receive the transmission just to get rid of that damn beeping. 

"Freighter 14 do you copy?" asked the voice on the other side on the radio.

"This is 14. What the hell do you want?" I yelled.

"Highwind, it looks your destination has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?! What the fuck is going on here?"

"We're not quite sure Mr. Highwind. That's why we called. You see we need someone to check out the situation…"

"And that someone is me." I said grimly.

"Correct. So just do a little flyby then touch down and check things out."

"Always get the bad jobs." I muttered under my breath.

"What was that Highwind?"

"Nothin'. All right so I'll report back if I get a chance. Highwind out."

I cut off the transmission before the messenger could deliver anymore orders. The radio started beeping again but I just ignored it.

I noticed that my pack of cigarettes had fallen off the control panel and scattered across the floor again. I really needed to do something about that, maybe a little pouch or something. I picked up one and lit it absentmindedly. Lately these things had become a habit I fell upon in stressful moments. 

People said that they were bad for me but do I care what they fuckin' think?

Suddenly I realized that I was approaching my destination. Just over the hills I could see a pillar of smoke rising out of what was most likely the offices that I had a hundred crates worth of supplies for in the back.

And sure enough as I cleared the ridge there sat the smoking ruins of Lircos village.

It hadn't been much, fifteen or so houses and the office building. And it was even less now, just a bunch of charred frames and one big pile of debris from the office building. 

I found a patch of clear ground in the center of the village to set down. After shutting down all systems, except for intruder alert, I lowered the ramp and stepped out.

The scene that greeted me was even more dismal than from the air. From the looks of things someone had strafed this place and not bothered to hang around to see what the villagers thought about it.

At a casual glance it looked like no one had even been here for the attack. But as I neared one of the huts I was proven wrong. 

The smell of burning flesh was heavy in the air. Combined with the smoke already thickly laden throughout the village it was pretty damn nauseating. 

But I pressed on cause the sooner I got this done the sooner I could get the hell out of here. This place just didn't feel right.

After going down the main street I came to the conclusion that most of the villagers hadn't been in their huts when this happened.

That only left one place, the office building. I walked over there dreading what I might find. And as I'd guessed everyone had been here.

From the overpowering smell of flesh and few scattered skeletons, I knew for sure that this was where quite a few people's lives had ended.

I had gotten all the information I could and, the feel of death lingering in the air was really creepin' me out. So I decided it was time to go.

With one last glance around I turned to head back to the ship and found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.

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Authors note- by the way the title doesn't really have any specific meaning that I've found yet. It's the name of a song and I just thought it sounded cool. 


	2. Lone Survivor

Chapter 2

A Lone Survivor

Authors note- I decided to try and tone down Cid's language a little more this time just so I wouldn't have to rate it 'R'.

Before totally spazzing out on this guy I decided to assess the situation. 

I was in a ghost town, with a gun pointed at my head and probably no one else around to get me out of this.

So basically I'm screwed, but not for long.

"Freeze!" yelled the man holding the gun shakily.

I had to think fast.

"Come on stupid I'm not afraid of an unloaded gun." I said.

Sure enough the guy fell for it. Looks like I've got a rookie on my hands.

The kid looked down at the gun and before he had time to realize I was bluffing I delivered a hard punch to the stomach followed by a swift little kick that knocked the gun clear out of his hand.

I picked the gun up from it's landing spot about ten meters away, while the kid was still trying to recover from my punch.

I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and lit it up. 

"Now you just learned a valuable life lesson. Never mess with Cid Highwind." 

The guy looked up from his out of air, bent over position and I took the opportunity to blow a ring of smoke in his face.

"Now I'm not even quite sure who you are. But I don't think you wanna hang around here for too long."

The kid tried to talk but he was still recovering from my punch. This kid was such a fucking pansy. 

"So if you'll just tell me your name and what the hell you were thinking putting a gun to my head, then I might be able to let you go."

"Winters" the kid gasped out.

"What?" I asked, intentionally trying to bug him.

"My name… is Winters."

"Winters eh? Is that it? Cause last time I checked names normally came in two parts."

"Hector Winters." He said now standing totally upright having recovered from my punch.

"All right then, now we're getting somewhere. Now tell me Hector what are you doing in this hell hole?"

"This 'hell hole' was my home until about an hour ago." He said.

So this kid has survived the attack? How did he pull that off?

"Any other survivors?" I asked.

"Nope, just me."

A lone survivor huh? Well I don't envy this kid. Having everyone in your village dead has gotta suck.

"Well kid I'm gonna have to take you back to Midgar for questioning about what you saw here."

"But…"

"Don't even start kid."

So we walked back to the ship with him in front of me so he wouldn't try any funny stuff.

As we neared the village center I thought I heard something in the sky.

"You hear anything kid?" I asked.

"No."

Must just be me imagining things again.

But then suddenly I heard it again, growing increasingly louder. Like engines, but very quiet ones.

I turned back to look in the direction I'd heard it and off in the sky I saw a trio of gray shapes. They were hard to make out from this distance. But I could tell right off that they were fighter jets. The pointed nose and slender wings gave it away.

Also the engines were pretty big for something so little so they must have a lot of power. And the last clue was the wing and nose mounted cannons. No regular ship had that feature.

As the fighters neared the village their guns fired off a few shots into the streets. They didn't seem to have noticed us yet, but that wouldn't last forever. So we might still have a chance.

"Come on kid. Run for the ship!" I yelled.

He complied and we made a mad dash for my freighter.

I looked over my should and saw the trio of gray ships making runs on the buildings, just making sure that there were no survivors. And oddly enough I thought I saw some Wutai markings.

Just as we got within thirty or so meters of Freighter 14 their attention turned to us.

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Authors note- _When I said I had no clue what meaning "In the Absence of the Sun" had I didn't mean that I had no clue, just that I hadn't quite figured out how to work it in yet. Also I am open to any suggestions because I only have a rough idea of the plot at the moment._


	3. A Quick Dogfight

Chapter 3

A Quick Dogfight

The first few shots just kicked up some dust. But the lucky few that hit my ship really pissed me off.

The ramp opened quickly after recognizing my entrance code and I scrambled up into the cockpit. I immediately started flipping on all the systems.

Just as I was ready to take off the kid popped in.

"Hey man we gotta get out of here!" he yelled.

"No shit junior! Now sit down and shut up!" I yelled.

The kid complied and plopped down into the co-pilot's chair. Without bothering to see if he was strapped in yet I gunned the engines and lifted off. 

The ship shuddered again with another volley of shots from our attackers as we lifted off. 

This freighter could make pretty good time but compared to these fighters we were like a snail.

With another shudder came the kid's question.

"Can this thing hold up against these guys?"

"Looks like we'll find out in a minute." I said.

I obviously stood no chance in head on combat, but maybe, just maybe…

Ah yes, this would work.

"Kid go and open the cargo hatch."

"What are you crazy?"

"Just do it!"

So he ran back and did as I said.

"Get back in here!" I yelled.

"Never can keep you happy can I?" he spat rhetorically as he entered the cockpit.

I pulled a sharp turn to the left, knocking the kid down into his seat.

"Hold on kid, this might get a little rough."

With that said I pulled the ship around so I was directly above the trio of fighters.

Then I pulled the freighter into a steep vertical climb. And just as I'd expected my cargo of supply crates dropped right into my friends in the fighters.

I pulled out of the climb and re-orientated the ship so we could look at our handiwork. 

One fighter must've taken a crate right into the engines because it was headed for the ground trailing smoke. And its pals weren't much better off.

Looks like they wouldn't be much of a problem anymore.

"Kid go back and close up the hatch."

All I got in return was a grunt and then he was gone.

I took the opportunity without the kid to radio back to Midgar.

"This is Freighter 14 to Midgar. Midgar do you copy?" I said into the radio.

"Highwind! We thought you were done for!"

"Yeah you wish. Not quite, Look I can't chat for long. I picked up a kid, maybe 17 or 18; he was the only survivor. Then the guys who shot up the place came back but we took care of 'em. We're on our way back now and I'll fill you in on the details later. Highwind out."

Just as I thumbed off the radio the kid walked in. What timing?

"Everything is closed up." He said.

"Took you long enough."

"Typical response from you."

"You've known me for maybe 45 minutes and you're already gauging my responses?"

"You're pretty predictable."

That one really pissed me off. I had all I could do to keep myself from teaching this kid a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. But I refrained cause if I wanted to get paid for this little trip then I'd have to bring him back in one piece.

After I calmed down I figured out a way to get the kid out of my hair.

"It'll be a while till we get to Midgar. There's a bunk in the back. You probly oughta get some sleep." I said.

The kid agreed reluctantly and got the hell out of my way.

I lit up a cigarette and took a long drag.

This kid was nothing but a pain in the ass.

The things I did for Shinra…

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Author's note-Sorry it took me so long to get this up. But between homework, and playing FF7 I haven't had much time. Number 4 should be up pretty soon. Please r&R.


	4. Midgar

Chapter 4

When I awoke I saw Midgar in the distance. I must've put the freighter on autopilot and then hit the sack. 

As we approached the city I made sure all systems were ready for landing and then I radioed in.

"Midgar flight control this is Shinra Freighter 14 requesting permission to land."

"You may proceed."

Flight control was really nothing more than another attempt by the city to try and make it look like they actually had some power in this city, which they didn't.

I flew around behind the Shinra building and gracefully landed on my platform.

"We're here kid!" I yelled.

I gathered up my cigarettes, the only personal belongings I'd brought on this trip, and headed out.

The kid was already there waitin' for me to open the hatch. Damn he was quick. 

The second the hatch opened the kid sprinted out onto the platform and gazed at Midgar in awe. I came up behind him and spoiled his moment.

"Ain't much to see here kid, just a bunch of pollution and slums. Now let's get movin'. 

He complied reluctantly and we kept on moving to our destination, my supervisor's office.

I got plenty of looks on the way through the main office with the kid in tow, but I just shrugged 'em off.

"Hey Highwind I didn't know you were babysitting today!" yelled a fellow pilot named Lennie.

The kid turned beet red.

"Hey junior don't let it get to ya." I said.

By that point we were at my supervisor, Coxley's office. Without bothering to knock I opened the door and walked in.

"Highwind when are you gonna learn to knock!" he yelled.

Coxley was on the verge of portly and was graying a little in his old age.

"Not sure sir. My mum never taught me you know." I said sarcastically.

"Is this the lone survivor you were tellin' us about." Coxley asked in reference to the kid.

"Yeah that's me. What's it to you?" the kid asked defensively.

"Easy there junior, no need to get all riled up." I said.

Coxley laughed as he listened to our exchange.

"Looks like you found us a feisty one Highwind." Coxley said amidst his laughter.

"Watch it boss, he can get a little temperamental." I said jokingly.

"What's your name son?" asked Coxley after he stopped laughing.

"Winters, Hector Winters. And I'd appreciate it if you got me some decent food in a bed. This moron that I got stuck with on the way back isn't exactly very accommodating he said in reference to me.

"Hey I'm no moron. Watch your mouth or you'll be eatin' your food through a straw." I said.

"Calm down both of you. Alright son I'll get you a room." Said Coxley.

After pressing a button on his desk an attendant came in and took the kid off to his room.

The boss and I then exchanged a glance. 

"Quite a bundle of energy you brought back Highwind."

"He's a little bundle of somethin' alright." I said.

"Well he's out of our hair now. We'll send him upstairs to the suits and they can deal with him." Said Coxley.

"Yeah. Hey and by the way, I'm gonna need some techs to look at my ship. It got a little dinged up on our way out." I said.

"I'll get someone on it before tomorrow." 

"Alright well I'm gonna get some rest but first I think I could go for a few drinks."

Coxley nodded.

"As long as you're in on time tomorrow morning." He said.

I opened the door and was about to step out when I delivered my last remark.

"Oh and by the way I think I'm gonna come down with somethin' tonight, like the flu or somethin so I'm not comin in tomorrow. Bye!" I said as I ran out the door and slammed it behind me.

"Highwind!" yelled Coxley behind me.

"Hey Cid I think Coxley wants you." Said Lennie.

"Yeah probably does." I said as I lit up a cigarette and walked down the hall.

As I walked out of the office I breathed a sigh of relief. I was finally rid of that kid.

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Authors note-I know that the chapters have been kinda short but they will get longer as the story progresses. I probly won't post anything else for a while cause I got three tests and two major projects due this week so I'm kinda swamped.


	5. A Night at the Bar

Chapter 5

As I walked out of my office I decided to postpone going to my apartment. Instead I think I'll pay a visit to the local bar. And since it's run by Shinra I get the drinks for free.

As I walked in I found that Lennie was already sitting at his usual barstool. Lennie was dark skinned with a fairly thin build. His hair was dyed bright yellow and he fancied himself to be a pretty good pilot. But don't we all?

I took my place next to Lennie; we always sat in the same spot.

"What'll it be Highwind?" asked Abe the bartender.

Abe was a portly man in his forty's, an average bartender. Except Abe had the inside line on some Shinra news, so he could be a very useful source of information.

"So Cid I hear you had quite a run." Said Lennie from the left of me. I'd almost forgotten about him.

"Damn right. One of the worst runs I've ever had workin' for Shinra."

I went on to explain what had happened and went through the dogfight play by play. When I was done I had drawn practically half the bar around and all were listening intently.

"Wow Highwind looks like you were busy." Said Abe.

"Now that's the understatement of the year." I muttered.

"So I take it you're glad to be rid of that kid." Said Lennie.

"Hell yes, that kid was nothing but a pain in the ass."

As the thought of the kid passed through my mind I couldn't seem to get it out of my head. No the kid was nothin' more than a pain in the ass and he always would be. He was out of my hair now and I'm gonna leave it that way.

Abe turned around when he heard the word "kid".

"Hey ya know I just heard somethin' about a kid from up top. Look like the suits up there wanna keep him quarantined. They think he's infected or something." Said Abe.

"Did you catch is name?" I asked, trying not to sound over eager.

"It was something like Victor Summers. Some weird thing like that."

"Was it Hector Winters?" I asked.

"Yeah that's what it was! How'd you know?" asked Abe.

"Oh I dunno. Just thought I'd heard something like that before. That's all." I said.

"Huh, well I'm sure glad I'm not that kid. Cause if I know Shinra, and I think I do pretty well, then that kid is gonna be in for a rough time, and then some." Abe said.

"Yeah glad I ain't him." Said Lennie as he nursed his drink.

"Yeah that'd suck." I piped in.

"Yeah." Came another voice from my right.

I looked over to see a half-drunken man with grizzly hair and a Shinra pilot's uniform. I just ignored him and went back to Abe and Lennie.

Suddenly the news came on and everyone watched for some mention of Lircos village, but there was none.

"That's kinda weird they didn't mention your little exploits on the news Cid." Said Lennie.

"Well maybe the suits up top haven't finished digesting it all yet. They like to analyze the shit out of everything." Said Abe.

"Yeah that's probly it." I said.

"Or maybe Cid here is just pulling our legs." Said the man to my right with a smirk.

"Man what are you talking about? You're just jealous, I bet you couldn't have made it through that dogfight."

"Oh yeah, like I couldn't handle three fighters." The man said in a definitely drunken tone.

"You saying that I'm lyin' about this?" I asked loudly, catching a few glares.

"I'm just sayin' that I think you're exaggerating a bit. Cause you don't look like no hero."

"You callin' me a coward?!" I growled.

"What if I am?"

"Then I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

"Bring it on!"

"Hey you two knuckle heads knock it off!" yelled Lennie.

Everyone in the bar was now watching.

"Now whoever the hell you are, we all know that Cid ain't no coward. You're obviously drunk. Now I got no problem with you getting drunk, but if you're gonna fight do it somewhere else." Said Abe.

Abe's speech didn't register with either of us though. So we turned back to face each other.

"What's the matter coward, you afraid to fight?" taunted the other man.

"That's it you're goin' down!" I yelled.

I downed the rest of my drink and threw my flight goggles and jacket on a barstool.

This guy was definitely drunk, but I hadn't quite reached that point yet.

I let the other guy make the first move since he had a disadvantage. He swung a hard, yet poorly aimed punch. I easily jumped out of the way.

I don't know who this guy is. But if you're callin' Cid Highwind a coward it don't matter who you are.

I hopped around a little more to try and disorient this guy and then I went in.

I swung a punch and firmly connected with his cheekbone. He spun back and grabbed onto a barstool to steady himself.

"Now really man think next time before you go pissin' me off again." I said.

But this guy still hadn't gotten enough. He lunged at me and actually managed to land a punch on my jaw.

I tasted blood but I ignored it. This bastard had gone _too_ far.

I immediately dove at him and with one punch it was all over.

My punch landed right square on his eye. He'd definitely feel that in the morning.

The other guy was now on his knees. I watched him for a few moments to make sure he wouldn't attack me from behind and then I turned around.

I collected my belongings from the barstool and exchanged a look with Lennie. We both had the same idea, what the hell was this guy thinking?

After putting on my jacket and flight goggles I threw Abe a few gil and walked right out the door. 

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Authors note-Although some people may be wondering where this series is going I assure you that it will get more interesting, hopefully anyways, but right now only me and anya know where this is going, and you'll just have to wait and see.


	6. The Board Meeting

Chapter 6

As Cid was engaging in one fight, Shinra executives were analyzing another.

"So this pilot says that there were three fighters." Said Heidegger as he read the report.

"That's right." Confirmed Vice President Rotterdam.

Rotterdam had grown tired of his job when he learned that whenever the president's son Rufus was ready to step up that he would be without a job. So he sat through these grueling board meetings and just nodded his head when he was addressed.

"And this pilot beat three fighters in one of our old freighters?" asked Scarlet.

"That's what the report says…" Rotterdam said impatiently.

"Palmer do you know anything about this pilot?" asked President Shinra.

"What was his name again."

"Highwind, Cid Highwind." Said Heidegger absentmindedly, not bothering to look up from the report he was so enthralled in.

"No, I have never heard of him. Although I would like to meet this Mr. Highwind, sounds like quite a pilot." Said Palmer, Head of Space and Aeronautics. 

"He doesn't sound that tough." Said young Rufus Shinra where he was slumped sullenly in his chair next to his father's.

The boy was only 13 years old yet the president insisted on having him at the meetings, to give him some "exposure". Everyone else thought he was just a big pain in the ass.

"I don't see why this is all so important enough to call me away from my work." Said Hojo from behind his strands of dark hair.

"Because Professor we as the executives of Shinra must all come together to make a decision." Said President Shinra.

_Bullshit. We all know that the president is the one who makes the decisions here, _Rotterdam thought to himself.

"Sir, it says here that this pilot Highwind reported Wutai markings on the ships." Said Heidegger.

"But if the ships were from Wutai then that means…" Reeve, Head of Urban Development thought out loud.

Reeve was the newest member of the Shinra high executives.

"That is a pure act of war." Scarlet gasped, still trying to grasp it all.

"Look before we go issuing war and pointing fingers here let's think about this. We have a report from _one_ pilot that he thinks he saw Wutai markings. Is that really a good enough source?" Rotterdam said hotly.

"I say we kick their ass!" yelled Rufus.

That evoked a small snort of laughter from both Reeve and Rotterdam.

"Getting back to the point." Said an irritated Heidegger as he glared at Rufus. 

"It says here in the report that there was another person at the village. Maybe this boy would know something." Heidegger said.

"Send in Hector Winters." Said the President to his secretary via intercom.

"I must protest! Winters is not in a condition to be released yet. He may be contaminated!" said Hojo urgently.

"That is a chance I will take professor." Said the President authoritatively.

Just then Winters walked in, escorted by one of the new Turks who simply went by the name "Rude". 

Winters eyed everyone suspiciously, especially Rufus.

"You are dismissed." The President said coolly to Rude.

Once Rude was gone the president began.

"Now, do you recall seeing three fighters at Lircos?" he asked Winters.

"Yeah I saw 'em. Plenty of times I saw them. They were the bastards who killed my family, my whole village." He said heatedly.

Rufus straightened up in his chair and listened with interest.

"Do you recall the appearance of these fighters?" asked the president.

The boy went on to describe the fighters as he remembered.

"Do you recall any special markings on these fighters?"

Before the boy could answer, a cool, controlled voice spoke out from the other end of the table. He had not spoken yet at the meeting.

"Do stop for a moment." He said as he brushed back his silver hair.

"Now Mr. Winters, did you or did you not see Wutaian markings on the fighters in question? They look like this." He said calmly as he drew the Wutaian mark on a scrap of paper and held it up.

The boy looked at it for a moment and then nodded his head.

"Yes the markings looked like that." He said.

"Thank you. Now it seems that we have a consensus. Two people have confirmed that these fighters had Wutaian markings. I'd say that it now qualifies as a proven fact." The man said coolly, his green eyes watching everyone else.

The other executives shifted nervously in their chairs.

"You are dismissed Mr. Winters." Said the silver haired man.

Once the boy had left, President Shinra spoke.

"Thank you General Sephiroth, for getting to the bottom of things. Now that we have confirmed that those were Wutaian fighters we must make a decision." He said, eyeing the other executives.

"But how do we know that those were real Wutaian fighters?" asked young Reeve, looking a bit bewildered.

"Well, who else would have Wutai markings on their fighters?" Scarlet asked acidly.

"I think that there is only one thing to do." Said Heidegger with a sense of purpose in his voice.

"And what is that?" asked Rotterdam, dreading the answer.

"War."

"War!? Are you crazy? We can't declare war on Wutai!" yelled Reeve in the heat of the moment.

"And why not?" said the president glaring at the young executive.

Reeve was silent.

"Sir, I agree with Mr. Reeve, that this is not a possibility we should be considering." Said Hojo, with a hint of fright in his voice.

"We do have the firepower and the resources…" said Scarlet to no one in particular.

"We must not forget that we have good relations with Wutai. Do we really want to break those?" said Rotterdam, trying to convince the others at the table.

"They were the ones who broke the relations with us, it is not our fault. _We_ are the victims here." Said Heidegger.

"Let's blow 'em all up!" yelled Rufus.

"Our air force is definitely up to the challenge. I know that our pilots will support us." Said Palmer excitedly.

All eyes now turned to General Sephiroth.

"Our military is up to the task, and if we entered a war, we would emerge the victors. Yet I do not think it is wise to declare open warfare on another government. We must also consider the possibility of other groups allying with Wutai, which is very probable. So my army is behind you if the decision is made to go to war, and we _will_ defeat Wutai." Sephiroth finished.

"Thank you general, now I believe we should vote to make this final." The President said.

Rufus was getting very anxious at this point.

"Can I vote?" he asked eagerly.

Rotterdam was about to silence the boy with a firm "no!", but President Shinra spoke first and he held his tongue.

"Yes Rufus you may vote." Said his father, admiring the boy's wish to participate in important matters. When in fact all the boy really wished to accomplish was the blowing up of all the Wutaians.

"All in favor raise their hands." Said the VP, already knowing what the outcome would be.

Everyone but Reeve, Hojo and Rotterdam raised their hands. Sephiroth didn't vote either way.

"Gentlemen, why is it that you do not support us?" asked the president, eager to make them sweat under his glare.

"Sir I fear for the safety of the people. What if Midgar is attacked? All of our years of work developing this city would be lost." Said Reeve urgently.

"Our military can adequately protect Midgar." Said the president, although he had no idea if that was true or not.

"I would not assume that our military can be that widespread." Said Sephiroth, embarrassing the president somewhat. 

The president was silent.

"Sir, I do not think war is an appropriate play at this time. The Wutaians have a strong army." Said Hojo, now caught up in the discussion.

"General Sephiroth says we are stronger." Said the President as he looked in Sephiroth's direction.

Sephiroth nodded in affirmation.

"But we have had peaceful relations with Wutai for over forty years. Do you really think that now is the time to break those? And we must also consider the possibility of other governments allying with Wutai as General Sephiroth pointed out." Said Rotterdam, trying to reason with the fools around him.

"Well, I do not see any of your concerns as anything to worry about. We shall carry on as the vote has decided." Said the president, giving a malicious grin to the trio of non-war believers.

"Sir, when shall we make the announcement?" asked Scarlet.

"In a few days, when we are prepared. And also we shall tell the press nothing of the incidents at Lircos village at this time." The president ordered.

"I shall ready our air force immediately." Said Palmer anxiously.

"No. Your pilots can be ready for combat whenever called I'm sure." Said the President, spoiling Palmer's moment.

"Yes sir." Said Palmer as the smile disappeared from his face.

"General Sephiroth, I trust that your troops can be battle ready soon?" asked Heidegger.

"Yes after this meeting I will issue an order to begin flying troops to the appropriate continent." Said Sephiroth, glaring at Heidegger just enough to make him squirm.

"Shall you wish the Turks to participate in this?" asked Scarlet, hoping to be able to demonstrate the power of the Turks.

"We shall see as things move along. Now if there are no further questions then this meeting is adjourned." The president announced.

Everyone stood and Rufus began smiling gleefully.

"There's a war, there's a war. And we're gonna blow 'em all up." He sang.

As the executives left Reeve moved towards Rotterdam.

"This is pure lunacy." Said Reeve quietly.

"I agree. Yet this all seems to perfectly timed." Said the VP as they walked down the hall.

"What are you saying?" asked Reeve intently.

"I'm not quite sure yet. But I plan to find out." Said Rotterdam as he pushed the button for the elevator.

"Shinra is going to get us all killed." Said Reeve angrily.

"Maybe so. But if that is our fate then I shall not die having accomplished nothing in this place."

"I'm with you on that."

__

Authors note- Whew, that was a long one. Thanks Anya and Destiny for helpin me with these characters and how they act and stuff (yes strangely enough two of my friends hate each other) I'm not quite sure how well I wrote the execs but I got the point across, as Rufus said, "there's a war, there's a war," and so this fic will probly drag out fairly long, but please stick with it and r&r.


	7. Combat Pilot

Chapter 7

I skipped work the next day and slept off a mild hangover from the other night. But today I'm back, gracing everyone with my presence.

It's weird though, cause we all got orders to report immediately to the amphitheater and that all of our pre-scheduled jobs for today were cancelled. So I met up with Lennie and headed down to the assembly.

"What do ya think this is all about?" asked Lennie curiously.

"Dunno, but it better be quick cause I wanna get back to my ship." I said impatiently.

"Man it ain't your ship, it's Shinra's."

"Yeah well it's my ship no matter what those Shinra assholes say."

That provoked some laughter from Lennie.

As we filed into the assembly I saw portly little Palmer on the stage. Was he finally acknowledging me for Lircos? Palmer fiddled with the microphone and motioned for us to take a seat.

He cleared his throat and began.

"Now you may all be wondering what this is all about."

We nodded our heads.

"Well recently as you may have seen on the news…" he droned.

I lit up a cigarette and got ready to stand up for my big moment.

"There was a disastrous training accident out on the fields. Three of our best pilots were killed."

This was the big news! Come on didn't I get any recognition?

"And since this fatal accident has occurred we need to fill the spots of those brave pilots in their squadron."

I snorted; they'd probably screw me over on this one too.

"So at this time I would like to honor the following pilots and ask them to come up to the stage."

I tensed and accidentally inhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Would Leonard Clifton, Hector Winters and Cid Highwind please come up to the stage."

I sprang out of my seat and practically ran up to the stage. I'd finally made it!

As I got up their I saw that Lennie had a stupid grin on his face too, quite similar to mine. And then I looked to the left of Lennie and saw the kid. I'd heard his name but I'd just kinda forgot about it, till now.

Why the hell was that little twerp flying in a combat squad? 

But I'm not gonna bother think about that now. Cause I just made combat pilot!

"Congratulations. Now your orders are to clean out your desks and report to the combat wing immediately after for flight suits." Said Palmer over the mild applause.

We were escorted out first by one of the Turks, the bald one. The kid tagged along to our desks cause he didn't have one to clean.

"This is great huh guys?" queried the kid excitedly.

"Yeah, sure, great." I muttered.

"How the hell did you ever make pilot anyway kid?" Lennie blurted out.

"Well when I was up in Hojo's lab I got a hold of one o' them flight simulators, and I flew it all the time and one of the guards saw my scores and told Mr. Palmer." He rattled off quickly.

"So it took us _two years_ of flyin' for Shinra to make the fighters, but it only took you a day?" asked Lennie astonished.

"That's 'bout right."

"There goes Shinra, screwin' us over again." I muttered.

Suddenly I realized that Turk was still standing at the doorway waiting for us. I shoved the remaining stuff into the trash and motioned for Lennie to do the same. The kid tagged along behind us.

As we walked down the hall I heard the pressure locked doors to the combat wing hiss open. As I stepped over the threshold the eerie white light of artificial lighting bathed us in its glory.

****

Later on me and Lennie headed down to the bar to celebrate. Our whole afternoon had been spent getting fitted for flight suits and finding our bunks. We never even met our commander.

"So you boys are big time now." Said Abe as he poured us another round.

"Yep." I muttered not bothering to look up from my drink.

"Hey you two shut up, the news is comin' on. Might be somethin' about Lircos Cid." Said Lennie, still fairly sober.

Upon mention of my exploits I looked up.

"This is a special news flash." Said the reporter as she switched the broadcast over to another line.

Suddenly President Shinra was on the air, sitting at his desk.

"Good evening. I have some very important news for you…" he went on to explain about Lircos.

Finally they at least talked about it. Then they switched to a shot of the three Wutaian fighters. They must've taken that shot from my freighter.

"These three Wutaian fighters openly committed hostile acts. We have considered this matter a great deal and we have come to only one conclusion. The Wutaians have instigated a war. And we fear more hostile acts. If we wish to save ourselves then we _must_ take action." Said the President, trying to look grim.

"Yeah!" yelled a chorus of drunken patrons.

"So we are issuing an order for all pilots and Shinra military personnel to report to their respective stations immediately.

Thank you, and good night." Finished the president with his hands clasped together as his image faded out and the reporter came back on.

"Well boys, looks like you better get goin'. Said Abe as he picked up our glasses.

"Yeah see ya later Abe." I muttered as I stood up.

As we walked out I threw Abe a few gil and zipped up my flightsuit.

On the long walk to our station many thoughts flashed through my mind.

So this was why they promoted us, because there was a war. Not cause of how well we could fly, but because those freaking bureaucrats wanted to start a little war.

Damn Shinra.

__

Authors note- Sorry it took so long to get the next chapter up. But I've been rather busy lately, but now that we got vacation I should be able to get some more stuff up soon. Please R&R!


	8. War

Chapter 8

War

Vice President Rotterdam stood in the back shadows of the studio, watching President Shinra as he delivered the "late breaking news" about Wutaian hostility.

It was all such shit. He had grown utterly disgusted with Shinra and its inner politics. But the pay and luxuries that came with the job were good, and if he ever wished to make some changes to this godforsaken world, the only place he could do it was high up in Shinra.

But Rotterdam's thinking was cut short as the president wrapped up his bullshitting. A movement caught Rotterdam's eyes from behind, but then he realized it was only Rufus, lurking in the shadows.

That preppy little brat nauseated him. Of course it wasn't all the boy's fault. You were bound to be somewhat of a snob when your father was the richest man in the world. But the hard part was that the boy actually _liked it_. He enjoyed being the preppiest kid in town, and being spoiled rotten.

Rufus stepped out of the shadows to greet his father.

"We're gonna show them all right!" the boy exclaimed.

"Our army should be up to the task." Said his father as if talking to a lower being.

"Sir, shall we contact General Sephiroth?" asked Rotterdam, awoken from his pondering.

"No we can just monitor the army's progress from the battle room." Said the president as he headed for the door.

"Yes sir."

The only problem with that was that all of the other executives were already in the _meeting_ room. As he tried to get ahead of the president and herd the executives to the next room he muttered another incoherent slur against Shinra.

****

At the same time Rotterdam was worrying about Sephiroth, the general was worrying about his men.

"Sir it appears that we don't have enough boats for all of the troops." Fretted a lowly corporal.

"Then we shall find more boats. It's Junon; there are plenty of boats. Just tell the owners that Shinra is repossessing their ships because it is a time of war." Said the general calmly as he brushed a lock of silver hair out of his face.

The corporal was dismissed, leaving the general in relative peace for the moment. 

This whole war was a sham, he knew that. But the rest of his men, even his CINC (Commander in Chief) Colonel Hiram had believed the president and his little speech of lies.

The men were all pumped up and eager to move out. But then the dilemma of not enough ships. Nothing could ever work out just the right way. And then there was the march across the next continent, but by then the action would've already begun. The fighter jocks would make short work of the Wutaians, his army would just clean up the dregs.

The Wutaians would rue the day that they caught Shinra's eyes, and the fighter jocks would revel in it.

****

The second the president put out his call for military personnel I knew it'd be a long night.

When we stepped into the Shinra building we found a scene of utter chaos. Soldiers scattering everywhere, pilots running up the stairs because the elevators were full. So we followed suit and made the climb up the stair to the aeronautics level. Amidst the sea of blue suits I thought I saw the kid but I couldn't be sure.

I retraced our steps from this morning to get to our squad's hangar. Most of the squad was already there. There seemed to be one man attracting the most attention amongst the group. As we stepped closer I realized that this guy must be our commander.

"Excuse me sir." I said a bit feebly, this guy had a scary presence.

"What?!"

"Uh we're reporting in. Pilots Clifton and Highwind." Said Lennie meekly.

"Ah yes, the rookies."

"We're not exactly rookies. We've flown before…" I muttered weakly.

Up to this point the commander's back had been turned to us but with my disagreement he spun slowly around on his heel to face us.

And a look of shock and contempt spread across his face. That was when I realized how I recognized this voice. I'd heard the voice a couple of nights ago down at the Shinra bar, and the face sealed it. This was the drunken man who'd picked a fight with me down at the bar.

"You." He snarled.

"Well they normally call me Cid, but whatever floats your boat ya now." I joked.

With my snide remark the commander became even more infuriated. And suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed my collar.

"Now you listen here. Both of you." He said looking at Lennie too. "I run a tight squad of pilots here. And I'm not gonna let you two clowns mess it up. And as for the bar I was drunk, and I'm sure you two morons have gotten plastered plenty of times too and done some stupid things. So our little scuffle _will not_ be mentioned again, I repeat will not. Got that?" he asked with a rough tug on my flight suit.

We nodded our heads in submission.

"And lastly I don't know how you two fly. But no matter what you might think is 'right' you will only act when ordered by me or your flight leader. Unless you're in direct danger that is, then you blow the bastard outta the sky. So you got me?" he half asked while pulling on my collar just the right way so I couldn't breathe.

"Yes." I gasped out as my face started to turn purple.

Lennie agreed too.

"Good now stay out of my sight and get to your ships." He said, calmer now as he let go of me.

"Just my luck I got a screwball for a commander" I muttered as I walked off.

A flight technician handed me my helmet as I climbed up the ladder to my little fighter. I realized that I'd have to watch myself with this guy. He'd be angry at me for having beaten him, and he seemed like the kind of guy to hold a grudge.

But I put that all out of my head as I started the preflight checks and got ready to saddle up and nail some Wutaians.

****

The irony of it all was that the only TV in Wutai was broken that night. So none of the Wutaians saw President Shinra's speech.

The news was first heard by a young boy named Shen who had been trying to construct his own radio for months. As he snapped in the last piece, his creation suddenly came to life. And it began spouting the same announcement repeatedly.

President Shinra's declaration of war.

At first he didn't believe it. A war against Wutai? What had they done to Shinra? So many questions, yet so few answers.

The boy ran out of his house and found the closest person. A shadowy figure stood at the side of the river, which was the second person to know.

"Please come quick and hear this! It says there's a war on us. Come on!" beckoned Shen excitedly.

The figure at the riverside followed Shen inside his house to where the radio was still blaring its fatal message. 

As the figure strode quickly into the room Shen realized that it was Master Staniv. He listened intently, the message playing through almost three times before he was satisfied that it was real.

"Can this radio work anywhere?" asked Staniv, still not having quite come to terms with the whole thing.

"Um yeah. I guess…"

"Good bring it."

"Bring it where, I…"

"Come quickly." Said Staniv as he dashed out the door, ending their brief exchange.

Shen followed Master Staniv out through the village and over the bridge. He never stopped running, not until they had reached the top of the temple.

Both the boy and Staniv dropped to their knees in both honor and exhaustion.

"Lord Godo listen to this." Said Staniv between breaths while motioning towards the boy's radio.

Shen thrust forward his small, cobbled together radio into the arms of Lord Godo. He listened to the announcement more than once, just like Staniv to make sure it was true.

He carefully set the radio down and stared off into the night sky.

Why did Shinra want his temple, his people, his life? Why did the gods see fit to bestow upon his people this burden?

"Ready the air vehicles, wake the men…" said Lord Godo with his eyes turned to the floor.

Why?

__

Authors note-Well I've finally beat the game! So I'm no longer in the dark on all this. This chapter is just kind of summing up the different characters that have been introduced so far, and bringing in Wutai. R&r.


	9. Ace

Chapter 9

Ace

I soon learned that being a fighter pilot ain't all it's cut out to be. 

We flew five hours straight gettin' to the site prepared for our base. And they wouldn't let us get a wink of sleep on the way cause we were goin' through the Nibel Mountains and had to be careful navigating. 

The base itself was hidden pretty good on the outskirts of the mountain. We were waved in by a couple of guys with glowrods. As I popped the canopy open a message from the commander played over the radio.

"All right, looks like we all got here in one piece. Now get some sleep and report to the mess hall at 0600 hours."

Great, three hours of sleep. But I guess Shinra ain't known for their kindness and generosity.

The second I hopped out of the fighter all lights were extinguished. I saw a tech a few feet away and pulled him over.

"What the hell is goin' on?" I asked sharply.

"All lights go out at 0300 sir, base rules."

"Well how the hell do they expect us to find our bunks?"

"Oh you must be new. You can use my glowrod for tonight. But after that you gotta find your way without it. You'll get the hang of it eventually." The tech said with a slight smirk as they handed over the glowrod.

So I made way to the barracks but even with the light it was hard cause I didn't know where to go.

When I finally got there it was almost 0400 and everyone else in the squadron was already asleep. Of course the bunk no one wanted, right next to the bathroom, was the only one left for me.

But I made the most of it and dozed off while I could. Of course two hours would probly not even make a difference in my energy. Little did I know that I'd be waking up in about an hour.

****

The next sound I heard was a shrill, constant beeping over the intercom. Some form of a little Shinra alarm clock no doubt.

As I staggered out of bed I glanced at my watch and realized that I'd only slept for an hour.

Damn Shinra.

I looked down and figured out that I'd never even bothered to take off my flightsuit. I relieved myself and was about to hit the showers when suddenly another message rang out over the intercom.

"All personnel report to the mess hall."

What the hell? We weren't s'posed to be at the mess hall for another hour. But I decided it wouldn't be too smart to piss 'em off on my second day.

So I headed out with the other guys and caught up with Lennie.

"Hey haven't seen you since we launched." I said as I came up behind him.

"Cid! Man I lost track of you in all the chaos."

"Yeah, they're sure screwin' us hard out here. Tweaking with us every second."

"I know it's brutal."

By this point we'd approached the mess hall and found that the other two squads were already eating. The minute we stepped in they herded us into a line and put trays in our hands. As we filed down they slopped some food on our trays and then herded us off to a table.

The food ain't bad, but a little salty. At least it put a little strength back in me. After the past ten hours or so my body was beat. 

I noticed that the commander was over at a separate table. But he had isolated himself from the other two commanders, or had they isolated him?

I'd have to look into that one, and also figure out what the hell my commander's name was.

As I finished my grits a door opened in the other corner of the room. Out stepped a man who looked to be in his fifties. His distinguishing feature was a huge handlebar moustache, which was starting to turn silver with the rest of his hair. He was dressed in a normal flight suit, only his was a scarlet color, where as everyone else's were gray.

All noise and activity ceased abruptly with this man's arrival. The three commanders saluted and sat back down. The man then walked up to an empty wall and opened up a console next to it. With the press of a few buttons the wall opened to reveal a large, detailed, computer generated map of the Wutai area.

"This, is our target." Said the man while pointing to a blinking spot on the map.

His sudden breach of self-made silence startled everyone, this guy was a bit eccentric it seemed.

"It is what we have confirmed to be a small outpost on the outskirts of the main settlement. Dragon will make this first strike and pull out." He continued, confusing me a bit until I remembered that Dragon was the bomber squad.

Eclipse will then catch the stragglers and intercept the force they will sent against us at that point."

It took me a moment to realize that Eclipse was my squad.

"Finally Phoenix will pull a sweep to pick off any survivors and aid in recovery if needed. Any questions?"

"Sir will Dragon have any cover?" asked Dragon's portly commander, Kahne.

"Well I suppose not. Eclipse will make a run after yours and cover your escape."

"But sir I've seen the photos. That outpost has a tower which could easily house a cannon or other weaponry."

"Well you'll have to take that out first. Anyone else? This outpost is crucial to further advancement; it is a strong staging point. We must take it." He said while turning his head slowly so as his hard glare met each and every one of us.

After Kahne no one else dared speak.

"Then you have one hour to get to your ships."

As we all stood up and exited the mess hall I made my way through the crowd. And soon enough I found the man I was looking for, Jay Thanton. He was a veteran of Eclipse, but didn't have the same snotty attitude towards rookies as most of the others.

"Thanton." I said above the crowd.

"Highwind."

"Who was that guy back there?"

"Ah you mean the great Sun King."

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"The great Admiral Janus Apollo. The man giving the briefing. Some say he's the best commander ever, never lost a battle. He has command over the whole Shinra airforce, and doesn't have to report to Palmer either."

"Not even one battle?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's what they say. Hey you oughta get back to the bunks and get ready. And Highwind." He said as I headed off.

"Yeah." I said, as I stopped and looked back.

"Watch your back out there. I hear these guys are pretty tough."

"Not for an Eclipse they ain't!" I yelled as I jogged off to the bunks.

As I rounded a corner somethin' slammed into my chest hard, knockin' the air out of my lungs. I looked down and saw none other than the Winters kid.

"Hey junior watch where you're goin'!"

"Screw you. You ain't the boss o' me."

I couldn't help but laugh at his cheekiness.

"Haven't seen you since we got inducted."

"Yeah, I made sure to stay as far away from you as possible."

"Likewise. Hey ya oughta get to your ship."

"Don't tell me what to do. Besides why are goin' this way." He said, indicating the bunks.

"Cause I gotta get my flight goggles. Now get outta my sight."

With that the kid jogged off to the airfield, and I headed to the bunks. The bunks were deserted when I got there so I lit up a cigarette. After a long drag I looked up at the clock and cursed. I was almost late, shit.

With one last puff I stubbed the cigarette out and grabbed my flight goggles. As I jogged down the halls a pre-recorded message blared over the intercom.

"All personnel to their ships. All personnel to their ships…"

Damn Shinra, like I didn't know I was late.

When I reached the airfield everyone was in their ships runnin' the final preflight checks. The techs already had my ship goin' and were making' the checks. As I approached I donned my flight goggles and was greeted by one of the techs.

"Mr. Highwind there you are! Good luck out there." He yelled over the chaos.

I gave him a nod as I vaulted into my cockpit. With one last check I strapped in, closed the canopy and flicked on the radio.

"All Dragons report in."

Wrong frequency, I switched it over to Eclipse.

"Eclipse Eight standing by.

"Eclipse Nine reporting in." that was the kid.

"Eclipse Ten standing by."

There was a pause and suddenly I realized that my call sign was eleven.

"Eleven standing by." I rattled off.

"Twelve ready to go." said Lennie.

"All right then let's show 'em what we got. Lift off!" shouted the commander, whose name I still hadn't learned.

I waited till a couple other guys took off so I didn't go prematurely. As I circled the base I could just make out the Dragons up ahead. If the timing was right we'd hit the outpost right after the Dragons made their run.

As I shifted slightly my elbow hit the radio and switched it over to another frequency.

"Okay Two cover me, I'm making a run." Said a voice that I identified as Kahne.

There was silence for a few seconds and then a cry of triumph.

"Great shot." Said a Dragon.

"Not so great. That tower is still standing." Said Kahne disappointedly.

"Shit! Look out that gun is movin'! And it's active too. Three look out!"

And then suddenly one of the blue dots indicating a Dragon on my sensor board winked out.

"Shit we lost Three. I'm taking' a run!" yelled a Dragon with revenge in mind.

"But Four you haven't got a wingman. That's suicide!" Two admonished.

"I can take care o' myself Two!"

But apparently he couldn't, because a few seconds later another light winked out, and then another. Three men lost in the first minute, damn!

"We got twelve ships comin' in at ten o'clock!"

"Oh shit…" said a Dragon before yet another light winked out.

Then suddenly I look up and we were upon the outpost. I switched quickly back to the Eclipse frequency to get orders.

"Okay boys, first objective. Cover those Dragons so they can get rid of that damn tower. Second cover their retreat, and third, kick some Wutaian ass!"

Simple enough.

"Lennie you there?" I asked.

"Don't worry man, I'm coverin' your ass."

With that I dove into the heat of the fight. I gripped the joystick tightly and fingered the trigger. Suddenly an enemy fighter was flyin' at me head on, guns ablazing. My reflexes kicked in and with a twitch of my finger it was gone.

One kill.

Five seconds later it was two, and then three.

I risked a glance at the sensor board, and what I saw was not pretty. Dragon had lost another fighter, Eclipse was down two, and Phoenix, who had just entered the equation was down one.

As for the enemy they'd lost four, and I was pleased to see that three of those had been me. Two more and I'd make ace.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by an urgent transmission.

"Cid man I got one on me. I can't shake it!" yelled Lennie.

"Be right there, just hold on man."

But as I soon saw that was easier said than done.

The Wutaian fighter that Lennie had attracted was on him like a hawk, never letting its prey out of sight. 

And suddenly it made its move. Shot after shot poured out of the guns, but Lennie managed to avoid most of 'em. 

All except for one.

I did all I could to stop it, but it was too late.

The shot hit dead center in Lennie's fighter and ruptured a fuel line. Causing an explosion that spread through the fighter like a virus, growing and multiplying. Until it ripped apart the canopy and exploded in a flash of flame and molten slag.

My first natural instinct kicked in. Kill first, ask questions later. One squeeze was all it took to kill the Wutaian bastard.

Four kills.

I flew low and scanned the ground for any sign of Lennie, but found none. I ignored the growing lump in my throat and dove back into the battle with vengeance in mind.

The next minute was a blur, like I had entered a dark cloud. And when I emerged two more Wutaians had been sent to hell.

I spared a glance at the board to find only two Wutaians left. They wouldn't last long if I had anything to do with it.

But the next thing I knew there was the telltale sound of gunfire and a splintering noise. After that everything went black.

__

Author's note- Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. But I've been swamped with projects and tests and such but now I'm free for the moment, and also I'm not sure if I used certain military and flight terms correctly but I think you got the gist. I'll try and get somethin' up soon so we can see what happens to Cid, Adios!


	10. Aftermath

Chapter 10  
Aftermath  
  
So bright, so damn annoying.  
I slowly tried to open my eyelids but it hurt like hell. They batted furiously with   
the sudden invasion of light.   
Why was it so damn bright?!  
So I gave up on opening my eyes for the moment and assessed the rest of myself.   
My head was throbbing hard, I musta done somethin' to it, that much was obvious. The   
rest of my body ached, but it was centralized in a few places. Like along my back,   
straight, long lines of pain searing down my back.  
And my leg, damn did that hurt! The rest of me was okay, except for the aching   
and bruises. My neck was stiff too, I was laying all funny on the bed. I moved a little and   
quietly cried out in pain. My back!  
"Sir I think this one's conscious." Said a far away and distant voice.  
I slowly opened my eyes, accepting the light and its blaring yellow. Suddenly as   
my eyes came into focus there were four faces directly over me. One guy who must be a   
doctor, a couple of nurses and, oh no. My commander.  
"Mr. Highwind can you hear me?" asked a distant voice.  
I tried to talk but my jaw hurt. I flexed it experimentally. It was like I'd never   
moved it before.  
"Yeah." Mumbled a weak, gravelly voice.  
Did I just say that?  
"Mr. Highwind are you in pain?"  
"I'm all right."  
There was the voice again.  
I tried to tilt myself to sit up but it hurt too much.  
"Mr. Highwind you seem to be in pain."  
"Where the hell am I? Demanded the voice.  
"You're in the sick bay at your fighter base."  
"Fighter bay?" asked the voice, confused.  
I realized that the voice must be me.  
"Yeah fighter base, you're in Eclipse squad remember?" asked a gruff voice.  
A puzzled look spread across my face.  
"Come on, Eclipse. God what a dumbass." Said the same voice.  
"Now Mr. Nairne please. The medication and trauma of the crash seem to be   
affecting his mind a bit." Said a voice that was probably the doctor.  
"Crash?" I asked suddenly.  
The doctor fielded this one.  
"Yes Mr. Highwind your fighter was shot down."  
"Wha? When?"  
"Three days ago."  
Then slowly it all started coming back to me. The outpost, the tower, and. Oh god.  
"Lennie! Did you find Lennie?" I asked frantically.  
"We looked kid, he must not have made it." Said Nairne solemnly.  
I suddenly realized that Nairne was my commander.  
"You made ace kid, six kills in all." Said Nairne.  
Then the memories started flooding in.  
The Dragons' screams, Lennie's call for help. Me arriving too late, that Wutaian   
bastard turning Lennie into dust. My mad rampage, six Wutaians who wouldn't be   
returning home.   
"Mr. Highwind. Get some rest."  
A sharp sting in my arm, and then black.  
****  
They were finally there, after four days of marching, whining and overall   
exhaustion Shinra's army had reached their camp.   
The night they arrived every man was asleep in the camp except for one, their   
general, Sephiroth. Aided by a dim utility lamp in his tent he pored over an array of maps   
and charts. Tracing routes and forming strategies, and then disgustedly discarding them.  
He knew he needed sleep, but he needed a strategy even more. As he nodded off,   
head on a pile of charts, it came to him as if out of divine intervention. And with the slow   
closing of his eyelids he began plotting the fine nuances of his strategy. The Wutaians   
didn't stand a chance.  
****  
Halfway across the world from the war Rotterdam sat in a small café working at   
his laptop. Since the war had started he'd gotten a total of about six hours of sleep. It was   
a constant cycle of meetings, lying and sleep.  
And the president had been especially angry about the report of the first air strike.   
The losses had totaled to almost a squadron's worth, with many others injured. There   
were tales of rookies making ace on their first mission, and veterans being shot down   
without a kill. War was a horrific and crazy thing.  
All of this just another one of the president's foolish orders blown out of   
proportion into this. What did Shinra even want with the Wutaians?   
As he sipped at his coffee it hit him. It was so blatantly obvious he chuckled.   
Shinra you greedy bastard, you really worked this one out well. But there would be a hole   
in the plan somewhere. And when he found it Rotterdam would tear the whole thing wide   
open.  
****  
The constant sound of the helicopter blades was soothing in a way. And for a   
moment he almost forgot about the war. But as the helicopter flew over the mountains the   
sight he saw reminded him how terrible this war really was.  
The site that had once been a small peaceful village and a watchtower had been   
transformed into a junkyard. Crashed fighters littered the ground and all that remained of   
the buildings were charred holes.  
An involuntary chill shuddered across his body, so many lives lost in this petty   
corporate war. Of which he had still not figured out why Shinra had started.  
"Lord Godo sir shall we touch down?" shouted the pilot over the noise of the   
blades.  
All the pilot got in return was a curt nod. With a light thump the helicopter   
touched down on the singed grass and Lord Godo stepped out, Staniv behind him.  
"Wow they really did a number on this place." Said the pilot in awe.  
The damage was even worse up close. Some bodies had stayed intact, and the   
looks of fear on their charred faces were enough to make someone nocuous. Apparently   
they had that effect on the pilot, for he politely excused himself to go and wretch in the   
tall grass.  
"Our pilots put up a good fight." Said Staniv, surveying the scene.  
"Yes, they died with honor." Replied Godo.  
"It looks like many enemy fighters went down before the battle was over."  
"Yes our pilots took many to the grave."  
"But not enough to end this." Said Staniv, gesturing with his hands to the   
wreckage and destruction. Godo nodded sadly.  
****  
The minute he woke up he regretted it. It felt like his body had been dropped off   
the top of the Shinra building, trampled by the train and then chucked into an oven to   
cook. The last thing he remembered was having that fighter on his tail and calling Cid for   
help. But Cid musta come to late, cause this sure didn't feel like any hospital bed. Felt   
more like a bed of nails. He rolled over to find he'd been laying on a splintered piece of   
his canopy, which had dug into his back at numerous places.  
And suddenly it hit him, that he was down and no one had found him yet. Were   
they all dead? Or were they picking up survivors now? Then suddenly he thought he   
heard helicopter blades whirring. They were here to get him, finally. But as he looked   
around he realized that they might not be able to find him amidst all the wreckage and tall   
grass.  
The blades seemed to be getting faster instead of slower. But that couldn't be   
right if they were landing to pick up downed pilots.  
Unless…  
He jumped up, ignoring the excruciating pain that coursed through his body. As   
the chopper lifted off he waved his arms desperately and then the pain was too much, and   
he collapsed into blackness.  
****  
Godo sat staring out the window gravely, when suddenly a movement in the grass   
caught his eye. He dismissed it but then there it was again.   
"Set us down." Yelled Godo over the blades.  
"Sir?" asked both the pilot and Staniv confusedly.  
"Set us down!"  
The pilot quickly obeyed and near crashed the chopper in the process. Godo   
jumped out before it even hit the ground and ran to the spot where he'd seen the   
movement.  
Could it be a surviving Wutaian pilot?  
But all hope faded as the standard gray Shinra uniform came into view. Still it   
was a survivor, and the man appeared to be in great pain. He knelt down and checked for   
a pulse on the man's dark skin, it was there, but just barely.   
As he stood back up he read the muddied name patch on the man's uniform.  
Flight Officer Leonard Clifton.  
  
Author's note- Fairly short chapter I know, but it was necessary. Pretty soon I'm going to   
have a straight Rotterdam chapter, but I think we'll have a Cid chapter first. And for   
those of you who didn't catch on to who the surviving pilot was, it's Cid's friend Lennie.   
Adios!  



	11. Glowrod

Chapter 11  
Glowrod  
  
I got better over the course of a week thanks to some material my squad got in a raid while I was stuck in bed. But I still can't fly for another day because my leg muscles are sore from not being used for a couple of days.  
Today I have to attend some function in the cafeteria, aside from eating that is. They wanted me to ride in a wheelchair but I wouldn't have it. I'm not some damn cripple who needs to have someone push me around. I'll walk on my own power. As I started walking my way down the hall I soon began to regret my decision. So I commandeered a wheelchair and started wheeling my way down to the assembly.  
I could hear the noise from practically a mile away, it sounded like the whole base was down there. What the hell could be going on?  
As I reached the cafeteria and nudged the door open with my foot I soon found out. I saw Thanton exit the table that had been converted into a stage of sorts, wearing a big grin. He must've been promoted or something.   
A deafening wave of yelling and applause greeted me, which oddly enough was mostly all for me.  
"Cid Highwind please report to the stage." Said a gruff voice over the microphone up front.  
Not wanting to look weak I ditched the wheelchair and limped up. The voice I soon learned was my commander Nairne. And he was wearing his dress uniform; something odd was going on here.  
"Flight Officer Highwind had six kills in the battle a few days ago. Made ace on his very first combat mission. For this we are awarding him the third ever Honorary Shinra Flight Bravery Medal." Said Nairne proudly as he handed me the medal.  
Upon further inspection I realized it was a fake gold. Didn't surprise me though, I mean it's Shinra. The medal was nice but it didn't really do much for me. What would soon come though, definitely made my day.  
"And on top of this, to once again honor you're achievements and superior flight skill you are being promoted to the rank of lieutenant. Congratulations Lieutenant Highwind." Said Nairne with what I thought was a slight grin of pride.   
The entire room exploded with applause as Nairne finished the sentence. I couldn't help but smile as I walked off to my squad, which was clustered over in the back. I soon learned that Jay Thanton had been promoted as I'd suspected, to lieutenant like me. So the glory wasn't all just for me, but it was still a joyous day for all. The fighting had momentarily ceased in the air, and we were celebrating with our comrades.   
What could be better?  
****  
General Sephiroth was not sharing the same optimistic outlook. His army had met the Wutaians in combat the day before and they'd suffered more casualties than he'd liked. And with the sudden Wutaian onslaught he'd had to hastily issue the order to begin Operation Diamond Edge, the eventual annihilation of the entire Wutaian army.  
He radioed Colonel Hiram and ordered him to move the units into place.  
When they struck it would be a glorious day, yes a glorious day.  
****  
The next day I woke up to find myself back in the regular squad bunkroom, not the infirmary, which was a welcome change. I found the smell of disinfectant made it hard to sleep. Of course the smell of dirty boots and smelly socks in the bunkroom wasn't much better but I'll take what I can get.  
I quietly got out of the bunk so I didn't wake up the rest of the squad, who were al still sleeping after partying late last night. Although it wasn't much of a party without liquor, cause base rules said we couldn't have any. But we made do with what we had.  
My attempt at stealth was soon shattered as I stepped on something next to my bunk and let out a curse, which woke most everyone up. I looked down to find that I'd stepped on a glowrod, the same one I'd borrowed from that tech the first night we got here. (Chapter 9)  
After a storm of sleepy insults and threats from my squad mates the drifted back to sleep and I pulled on my flight suit. Maybe I could actually get a seat in the cafeteria today. On my way out I picked up the glowrod and studied it. There was a number, 14 etched on it. Maybe some kind of ID number, I might be able to track down the owner after all.  
I pocketed it as I walked down the hall. My legs still hurt a little bit, but for the most part I was ok. And I'd talked with the doctor last night at the party and he said I could fly again. Better than any medals or promotions in my mind, although those were nice too.  
As I'd hoped the line for the cafeteria was almost non-existent cause it was so early. I grabbed a tray and let them slap the same gray grits on it that we'd eaten every morning since we got here. They were tolerable, sine they didn't even taste like anything, but their appearance was enough to make you want to gag.  
The base caf on the other hand was some of the strongest shit I'd ever had. One sip and it felt like someone had punched you in the stomach, but had gotten you fully awake at the same time. First time I had it I'd nearly choked, the effects were so strong. Now I sometimes drink three cups a day.  
Once I got my "breakfast" squared away I went to sit down. There was only one table out though, because of the party last night. And someone already occupied that one. But I still sat down anyways; I mean the person can't be that bad can they? As I sat down I got a closer look. My breakfast companion was a woman, that I could tell right off the bat. She had wavy brown hair tied up in a bun and sparkling green eyes.  
"Hello." I said cordially.  
"Hi." She said shyly.  
For an awkward moment we both just sat there, silent. Then I took some initiative.  
"Lieutenant Cid Highwind." I said as I offered my hand.  
"Shera Moss." She replied, shaking my hand.  
I gingerly swallowed some more grits and continued.  
"So what do you do here?"  
"I'm a ground tech for Eclipse Squadron." She replied between mouthfuls of grits.  
"Eclipse?" That's my squad." I said surprised.  
"Hmm guess I haven't seen you around."  
I found that rather hard to believe but let it go.  
"Hey I just remembered something. The first night I got in I borrowed a glowrod from one of the Eclipse techs. Think you could track him down?" I asked as I fished around in my flight suit pocket for the glowrod.  
"Really? Was there a number on it?" she asked, suddenly interested.  
"Lemme check...14" I read off the little glowrod.  
"14? Could I see that?" she asked with an outstretched hand.  
Once I handed it to her she turned it over a couple of times, studying it.  
"This is my glowrod." She said with a smile.  
"Yours?" I asked, puzzled.  
"Yep, now that I think about it I lent this to a pilot the first night Eclipse got in. Must've been you." She said with a giggle.  
Suddenly the most infernal sound I'd ever heard in my life was blaring across the base, along with the pre-recorded mechanical voice I'd come to hate.  
"All pilots to their ships. We are under attack. All pilots..."  
And when I turned my head back to Shera she was gone.  
  
Note- Ok, a few things may be a bit off in this, like the leg not quite working even though he had material. But I put that in there because I wanted there to be a reason he wasn't flying with them, and have him deal with being stuck in a wheelchair. Aside from that sorry this took me so long to update, it's been almost a month since the last chapter. And hopefully it won't be that long till the next. I'm going to being work on a new story with Reno and Rude as well as Chapter 12 of this, so keep checking in.  
Adios!  
  



	12. New Developments

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Careful bastard isn't he?" thought Rotterdam to himself.

He'd been at his laptop in his flat for at least four hours. Trying to find some case of deception by Shinra in the war. So far he'd been unsuccessful, and it was near midnight. 

He was in the archives of the official Shinra newspaper. He'd gone back at least two years, looking for some headlines that might give him a clue. But President Shinra didn't leave such things out in the open. The only thing he had was Shinra's objective in this war.

Which was pretty good, but you have to have some very strong supporting facts before you went and accused the biggest company in the world of being, murderous, distrustful and greedy. By the time this thing was over probably a couple thousand people would be dead. All for what? The damn material fields in the back of Da Chou, a Wutaian mountain. Greedy bastard.

With a slight smirk he realized if anyone ever heard him talk about Shinra like that he'd be out looking for a new job the very same day. The only person who shared his sentiments was Reeve, good kid right there.

As he scanned back to more recent articles he stopped at one, which mentioned Reeve. The headline read: "Head of Urban Development Declares That Pilots Must Find New Training Field After Fatal Accident."

As he read on it came to him. This was only a few weeks old. The fighter jocks had been training in some open areas on the outskirts of Midgar, close to some new construction happening, one of Reeve's new projects. And a couple of weeks ago the exercise had gone wrong, destroying vital progress and killing pilots from, Eclipse Squadron it said.

A link was given to a related story. Three pilots were admitted into Eclipse to fill the slots, Highwind, Clifton and Winters. As he investigated further he found their profiles. 

Clifton status K.I.A., combat missions one, one kill. Winters status Ready, two combat missions, three kills, and oddly enough he was only 15 and 5'4". The last was the most impressive. _Lieutenant_ Highwind status Ready, one combat mission, six official kills, two unofficial, third ever recipient of the Honorary Shinra Flight Bravery Medal. And he'd only been a combat pilot for six days, 4 of those days being listed as incapacitated.

Rotterdam's eyes bulged out slightly at this one, who the hell _was_ this guy? 

Something was definitely up with this little chain of events. He wasn't quite sure what or why. But when he found out Shinra better be ready to take one massive beating.

****

As Sephiroth looked at the map spread across the table he smiled. Blue and red checker like pieces were scattered across the map, representing different units. Blue being Shinra the "friendly" forces, and red the Wutaian "hostile" forces. Although many would agree that those two designations should be switched.

The Wutaians had stupidly moved their forces into a bottleneck of sorts between the mountains, and placed their staff headquarters right in the middle of it. Over the past few days General Sephiroth had moved his forces around the Wutaians' encampment. Hiding in the mountains, behind the mountains, sometimes even inside them. This formed a rough circle around the Wutaians, leaving them somewhat stranded.

For it was hard to get supplies or reinforcements in when enemy troops guarded every entry point. Especially when these enemies had tanks and other heavy weaponry. Already the Wutaians had begun to spot these scattered elements of the Shinra army. So action had to be taken soon, or else Operation Diamond Edge would be for naught.

But sadly the fighter jocks were a key part of this operation. And Sephiroth had been trying to reach their base for the past half hour with no response. Something did not seem right, but he knew that it wouldn't immediately affect him just yet. So he ignored it for the moment.

Suddenly there was an orderly in the doorway.

"General Sephiroth sir. There is someone on the visual comm. For you."

"All right, dismissed."

Once the orderly was gone he slowly rose from his stool and headed over to the visual comm. tent.

As he walked down the dirt road running down the middle of the strip of tents he gave a silent nod of approval. His orders had been carried out perfectly. Both the visual comm. tent and his personal tent looked exactly like all the others, if not even more inconspicuous. There were absolutely no signs of marking on either, and they were exactly the same size and shape as a normal barracks tent. So if the enemy came looking for some easy targets, nothing would stand out.

Another orderly stood guard at the door, he wasn't sure if it was the same one from before.

The visual communications unit itself was a fairly new addition to Shinra's army. A little larger than an average classroom chalkboard, it allowed people to communicate, and see each other at the same time. Something Sephiroth enjoyed quite a bit, for he liked to see the plump little executives wither under his gaze.

A comfortable chair was set out for him. Normal protocol was to stand when using the viscom, but he didn't follow Shinra's rules. Sephiroth gave a nod to the orderly, indicating he was ready. With the touch of a few keys he was on, and the orderly quietly left. 

The word "Waiting" was the sole occupant of the screen, all else was black. Instantly the plump, ugly, bearded face of Heidegger replaced it. A much less pleasant picture compared to "Waiting".

"Good morning General Sephiroth. How are things on the front?" grunted Heidegger.

"Everything is under control, Operation Thunderclap shall commence soon."

"Thunderclap?" asked Heidegger, puzzled.

"Yes, the predecessor of Diamond Edge. The dissolution of the Wutaian Army."

Fool.

"Yes of course. When exactly will this happen?"

"When the time is right. No sooner, no later."

He noticed that Heidegger was standing. Good, the man should get the impression he was reporting to Sephiroth, not the other way around.

"Do you have any news from the fighter base?" Heidegger asked, expectantly.

"No. I was not able to communicate with the base." Said Sephiroth impatiently.

"Well as long as they're out killing some of the enemy we'll be fine. By the way have you sent many of those Wutaian scum to the grave yet?" he asked, with a hint of evil in his eyes.

"We have inflicted almost no Wutaians losses to date."

That would soon change.

****

A mile or so away Corporal Baker lay flat atop a bluff overlooking the road. Stationed on the outer edge of Operation Diamond Edge's formation he had seen almost no action yet. Bur still camouflage was essential, so he had to lie prostrate in the dirt all day, trying to shield himself from the damn sun.

As he reached down for his canteen a low rumbling made the ground vibrate subtly. Fresh meat.

Around the corner came a standard Wutaian supply truck, followed by at least a dozen others. He picked up his binoculars and zoomed in on the truck cab. Sure enough a soldier rode in the passenger seat, and there was probably another in the back with the supplies.

That was a total of about 25 enemy soldiers, to his mere ten.

They'd just have to stall the trucks until he came up with a better plan. The corporal pulled out his radio and gave the order.

"Lose Shinra colors. Repeat lose Shinra uniforms. Stall hostiles, and no matter what. No hostility, and above all do _not_ let them pass. Baker out."

He scurried across the ground to get a better look. The odds were even worse, there were at least 20 trucks, instead of his estimated 13. Damn it. There was too many soldiers to take in hand to hand, for the enemy force was about quadruple the size of his.

As he moved back to his position his foot punched through a patch of soft ground. He cursed and looked down to find his solution. Covered with clumps of dirt was his GEP (Guided Explosive Projectile) gun. It hadn't crossed his mind to use it, although he'd remembered exactly where it'd been buried.

Sparing a quick glance he saw that the Wutaians had reached his men. The lead driver had gotten out and was arguing with a Shinra soldier. He had to act fast. Hurriedly he brushed the dirt off and brought it up to rest on his shoulder. The middle looked like a good place to start.

The scopes zeroed in on the truck, and he could see the driver impatiently tapping on the wheel, while the accompanying soldier dozed in the passenger seat. The gun emitted a loud beep before the rocket launched. He saw the driver glance up with his eyes wide, a second later the truck and about 3 others exploded.

Taking the explosion as a signal the Shinra soldiers promptly killed the Wutaian who'd stepped out of the truck and all else in sight. Soon all hell brook loose. Soldiers from both sides were dropping left and right, and trucks were exploding everywhere.

****

When it was all over the Shinra soldiers were successful. They'd neutralized all Wutaians, but not without a price. Half of the Shinra soldiers, including Corporal Baker lay dead, with dirt smeared across their faces and bullets in their chest. But the enemy had not passed, and that was all that mattered.

****

The first thing that hit him when he woke up was a throbbing headache. But crashing your fighter would do that to you. As he looked down he realized he had his right arm in a sling, a few scars on his stomach and he thought he felt a large bandage on his head.

A quick look around summed it up. He was in a prison cell, and a pretty bad one at that. Unidentifiable foreign substances smeared the wall, and leaked out of cracks in the cement. It even felt like he was _sitting_ in some kind of liquid.

He tried to remember what'd happened, but it was difficult. The Wutaians had ganged up on him when he was flying, he knew that. And he'd radioed for help from his wingman, couldn't quite remember his name. All he knew was that he never came, stuck in some dinky little cell, mist likely in enemy territory. 

He fell in and out of sleep for a while, slumped down in the corner of the cell, tattered white shirt open, exposing his dark skin, which was crisscrossed with scars. The next time he looked up at the door someone was there. A tall, fairly well built Wutaian man with crew cut black hair and a short flowing black cape, those were the things that stood out. 

It seemed like forever that they sat there, just staring at each other, separated by a rusty, barred metal door. The Wutaian broke the silence first.

"So I see that you're awake."

The pilot just glared at him.

"As you can see we had to operate, internal bleeding. Just barely saved you. So in exchange for us saving your life could you answer a few questions?" he asked, a little nervously.

"What's your name?"

"Staniv…What's yours?" he asked, playing along hoping it'd lead to some answers.

The pilot sat there for a long time, just thinking, trying to remember. The head injury had shaken him up a bit. Then suddenly it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

"Lennie…Clifton."

"Well Mr. Clifton would you like to answer some questions now?" asked Staniv, hopefully.

"No."

"Well I'll come back later. Good day."

As Staniv walked away down the hall Lennie yelled.

"I'll never answer your questions! Never! I won't betray my friends!"

Staniv just kept on walking.

_Note-Ok it was a bit of long one, especially with no Cid but this was all essential to building the story. Not sure when more of this will be up, hopefully soon. But this afternoon I'm going to work on the next chapter of my newest fic Chasing Sirens. Adios!_


	13. Surprise!

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The minute that siren sounded all hell broke loose. Hordes of sleepy, unshaven and half dressed pilots stumbled out into the hall, adding to the confusion. Even the cooks were running about, the sounds of multiple avalanches of pots and pans rang out as they scrambled for shelter.

My instincts soon kicked in and I headed for my ship like everyone else. Hopefully the techs would have it ready. When I stepped outside the reason for the sirens became apparent. The sky was swarming with enemy fighters, and what looked like bombers as well. 

Once I reached my ship, dodging random enemy fire I didn't even bother put my flight suit on, no time. 

"Highwind!" yelled a nearby tech, who threw me my flight goggles.

As I looked closer I realized it was Shera, the woman I'd just had breakfast with. But pleasantries could wait till later, right now there was some fighting to do. So I clambered up a ladder and plopped into my cockpit. I didn't even bother run all the preflight checks; I was needed in the air.

But when I took off I immediately regretted my decision to get up in the air quickly. There were no other Shinra fighters up in the sky, just me. So the enemy swarmed all over me. Just like flies on a melting ice cream cone in the middle of the sidewalk. What the enemy didn't know though was that unlike the ice cream cone, I wasn't going to just let them peck away at me. I wasn't going down without a fight.

And hopefully I wouldn't be going down at all.

The first wave came in a group of three, pretty unfair odds…for them that is. A quick squeeze of the trigger turned one of 'em into debris and shook up his buddies a little bit. But suddenly I found a better proposition. A friendly fighter and supply shuttle were engaged in a heavy fight with at least ten enemy fighters. It looked like they needed more attention than my two newfound pals over here, so I pulled up and shot over to the main fight. Time to even up the odds a little.

"Shinra fighters this is Eclipse Eleven, identify yourselves," I said over the radio.

No response.

I repeated the phrase again, still no response. Hmm, their radios must be down. Nevertheless they needed help and I was going to give them some. For a few seconds I had the element of surprise in my favor, and that was good enough to narrow the count down to two less fighters. Leaving it eight against three.

Suddenly a scream rang out over the radio and the supply shuttle burst into a fireball. Damn it.

So it was just down to me and the other guy. Against eight enemy fighters, four to one, not bad. Bullshit, even _I'm_ a tad nervous now. I was brought back to reality when a blast shook my fighter. Shit.

_Get your head back in the game Cid._

I pulled a roll to the left and saw the sky light up with enemy fire where I'd just been. That was a close one, too close. As I pulled out of the roll an enemy fighter came into my sights for only a split second, but that was all it took for me to blow him into a thousand pieces.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw something on the ground explode in a bright flash of light. Time to deal with those bombers. I saw that the other friendly fighter was trying to do the same, but had two fighters on his tail. And before I could make it over to give him a hand he'd dealt with the fighters himself.

While I watched in awe my comrade stopped dead in the air and let the two enemy fighters fly right over him, and then turned them both into dust. Holy shit, the guy had just pulled a Mako Stall. If you weren't careful those things could blow out your engine and drop your fighter to the ground like a stone.

But this guy had just pulled one off while vaping two enemies, and I bet I wasn't the only one who was impressed, the enemy included. Suddenly I was trapped. All five remaining enemy fighters from the wing that'd been harassing my fellow friendly fighters and the combat shuttle were swarming on me hard.

Luckily a welcome voice broke over the radio, my commander Nairne. I never thought I'd be glad to see that guy. But at this point, hell I'd even be glad to see a chocobo up flyin' one of these things, as long as it was on my side.

"Need a little help lieutenant?" asked Nairne, with a tone of mockery in his voice.

"Nah, we're making out fine here. But if you wanna chalk up a few more kills in your record then be my guest." I said, relieved.

Without another word Eclipse decimated the remaining four fighters, giving me a chance to actually take a full breath of air since I took off. Once I was fairly safe, I led my wing from Eclipse to do some hunting. There were still plenty of bombers out and about to be mopped up. We obliterated all other enemy fighters in less than five minutes, with no losses from Eclipse. I even managed to get another little Wutaian dork in the process.

Before I landed I looked around to make sure the unknown pilot who'd pulled the stall was still around. I definitely wanted to meet that guy.

****

Soon after I landed, I got the deal on what had happened from the head Eclipse tech. Apparently to get some revenge for what we did at their outpost a few days ago the Wutaians had decided to launch a sneak attack on our fighter base. Which would have worked pretty good, except our radar had picked them up a mile away.

How the hell they even knew where our base was located posed an interesting question, but that would have to be answered later. Right now we had to pick up the pieces. Even though we'd spotted them on radar, most pilots had been asleep, so we'd taken a while to get into the air. And while most pilots had been struggling to wake up, the Wutaians had had plenty of time to wreak havoc on our base.

The entire administrative wing had been reduced to rubble, and no one had been inside, so all that was lost were some old chairs and desks. As for pilot losses, the most had occurred on the ground. Where people had been scrambling to get up in the air but had been too good of a target for the bombers to resist. We'd lost four or five that way. And as for up in the air there'd only been one Shinra casualty, a rookie from Phoenix squad.

And of course the Wutaians had almost all been killed, although a few had escaped before they suffered the same fate as their friends.

So we'd recover fairly quickly from this, but there'd be a lot of putting the pieces back together first. But before I did any of that I wanted to find that unknown hotshot pilot who'd been up there with us.

I looked for the odd green stripes on the wings of the fighters. Our unknown maverick friend had those on his or her fighter. As if reading my thoughts the fighter popped up right in front of me. And amazingly the pilot was still in the cockpit, shutting off the fighter. Once he was done he began to get out, but I startled him.

As he turned around I saw he was tall and lanky with unkempt chocolate brown hair, his eyes shone in the same color. He had to be only 17 or 18, but his tanned leathery face suggested many more years.

"Hey!" I shouted.

"What?! And who are you?" the man said as he jumped, startled.

"Just wanted to know who the hell you were; that stall you pulled up there was really somethin'."

"Well, I _am_ a pretty good pilot, I s'pose, now that you mention it…" he said with a mischievous grin which grew larger as he spoke again. "But you still haven't answered my other question, who the hell are you? And please don't give me the 'adoring fan' bit, it gets old," he said as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and began chewing on it lazily.

I had all I could do to keep myself from punching that sly little prick right in the mug. But of course officers didn't do things like that.

"I'm Lieutenant Cid Highwind. Now would you mind telling me who the fuck you are before I beat the pulp out of you and use the dental records to identify your body?"

At that the cocky pilot took a step back, although it was tough 'cause he was still standing on top of his fighter.

"_Lieutenant Highwind_? Oh shit. Flight Officer Azrael Maiden reporting for duty. I was sent to fill the empty slot in your wing." He said with a salute, "And I was just jokin' 'bout that adoring fan bit ya know I mean…"

A glare from me cut him off.

Damn it the spot he was filling was Lennie's. Something I still hadn't quite come to terms with. _Christ what the hell am I talking about? I'm not some kind of pansy. Damn it Highwind get a hold of yourself._

"All right, get your shit in the barracks, and then help with the cleanup."

Once the little dork had hopped down off his fighter and jogged off to the barracks I stared up into the sky, and let out a long sigh. This was gonna be one long freaking war.

_Note- Alright that's taken me a while to get posted, but thanks to the help of Kiyara it is finally here. And speaking of Kiyara, as some of you may have noticed the character Azrael Maiden is hers, from her story Catching Glimpses. I have permission to use him in my stories, but unless you ask her you do not, righto now that's settled. Lastly please do check out the collaborative work Chasing Sirens, which is posted under the name "The Skilled Assassins" we hope to change that soon. So if we do I'll inform you in my next chapter of this. It is a story focusing on the pasts of Reno and Rude, and how they came together. I've written the 1st chapter, and Kiyara should the 2nd chapter up very soon, we also have many other talented writers on tap to help us out with thewriting. If you'd like to write a chapter of the story please contact me, my info stuff is on my profile page thingy majig._

_Adios!_


	14. Coffee Stains & Chocobo Meat

Chapter 14 Valued Gateway Client Normal Valued Gateway Client 2 181 2001-11-10T15:36:00Z 2001-11-10T15:36:00Z 5 1733 9880 82 19 12133 9.3821 

Chapter 14

            General Sephiroth tried to contact the Shinra fighter base persistently that day until finally he got through sometime around noon.

            "Black Hawk this is Red Tiger do you read me?" repeated the general for what seemed like the millionth time, using the codenames for the air and army bases.

            "Hello?" came a crackly reply.

            "Who am I speaking to?"

            "Flight Officer Azrael Maiden, who the hell are you?"

            "General Sephiroth, now put on your general or you may watch your job get 'vaped' as quickly as a Wutaian fighter." he replied flatly.

            There was a loud shuffling accompanied by a melee of voices and metallic crashes for a minute.

            "Red Tiger?"

            "Yes, and this is General Apollo I speak with presently?"

            "Good guess, what can I do for you?"

            "First off explain why I've been so greatly inconvenienced as to having to spend all my time so far today trying to contact you," said Sephiroth, with a hint of anger.

            "We received a little wake-up call, but it's been taken care of." Boasted Apollo, followed by a sporadic burst of static.

            "I think it would be wise if we continued this conversation on viscom." admonished Sephiroth.

            Viscom lines were much more secure than regular radio frequencies.

            "Not an option, our unit got screwed up during the attack. What have you got to tell me that's so secret?" asked Apollo.

            "_Crude man this one,"_ thought Sephiroth to himself.

            "An end to this conflict." said Sephiroth almost lightly.

            The other general was silent.

            "I shall set up an environment in which we can talk more freely. We shall be in contact," said Sephiroth as he abruptly killed the transmission.

            The fools one had to deal with.

****

            "Good morning Mr. Clifton."

            They'd moved him to a bit nicer cell, hoping it would make him talk, but so far he hadn't said a word. He now had a folding metal chair, a table that was built into the wall, and a slab of stone raised off the ground covered with a blanket for sleeping. But aside from the furniture his living conditions hadn't changed a bit. Food came virtually never, and when it did it was no more than a glob of colorless slop, and to his knowledge he'd received no medication for his various wounds since he'd arrived at his cell. His T-Shirt was in rags and his pants they'd made after cutting off the top of his flight suit weren't much better.

            And always there was that intercom, making sure he never had a moment of relaxation.

            "Good morning Mr. Clifton." repeated the voice.

            He'd tried ignoring it, but that never worked. The message would just repeat until he replied.

            "I won't betray my friends." he replied bluntly.

            "Very well then. I will check back in with you later," said the voice as the connection was killed with a loud click.

            No food came that day, or the next. It would not come until Mr. Clifton gave them the answer they wanted, but he didn't plan on doing that anytime soon.

****

            As the door chime sang it's tune Rotterdam made some last minute preparations. The dinner his cook had made was quite nice, but had too many garnishes.

            "Get the door!" he yelled while hastily disposing of some stray lemon slices and strange pieces of greenery.

            Once he was happy with the look of their dinner Rotterdam returned to the living room to find Reeve sitting in a leather chair.

            "Good evening Mr. Reeve." he said cordially.

            "Good evening, and thank you for inviting me over. But I must say I am still a bit confused as to why I am here."

            "We shall discuss that over dinner. Now would you like a drink?" asked Rotterdam, abruptly switching the topic.

            "Um, yes. I'll just have a beer actually."

            Rotterdam stifled a laugh; this man was still so young.

            As the evening went on the two Shinra executives eventually found themselves at the dinner table, carrying on a simple conversation while enjoying some chocobo meat. But as suddenly as the innocent conversation had begun, it ended.

            "So really, tell me. Why am I here?" asked Reeve inquisitively.

            "Ah you can no longer stand the wondering. All right then Mr. Reeve, I shall tell you."

            Reeve stopped eating and looked at the VP apprehensively.

            "You recall a few weeks back when three training fighters destroyed your newest project and themselves?" queried Rotterdam.

            "All too well, but what does that have to do with anything?" asked the young Reeve hastily.

            Rotterdam took a sip of his wine and replied, "That I am not sure of yet, but I know that it is connected, somehow to this war."

            "So aside from just being social I guess I'm not seeing the reason you invited me over. You could've just as easily told me this over caf." said Reeve, summing up the situation.

            "True, but how do we know that our conversation is not being monitored at the café? And why would we, two well-paid Shinra executives meet at some lowly café? It just doesn't make sense to the casual observer. Which is why, Mr. Reeve, we are here. In an environment free of possible monitoring devices, having a nice social dinner, and discussing our role in the war." Rotterdam explained.

            "Ah, I see. But I guess I still don't quite understand what all of your speculations have to do with anything, especially Shinra."

            "Oh they have everything to do with Shinra…"

****

            "My dear Rotterdam if only you knew." mused President Shinra, as he listened to the conversation between Reeve and the vice-president

            "Let's have him arrested. I could have the entire security force at his house within five minutes." said Scarlet hastily.

            "No, no. Let him think he's on to us. Let him spend his time, speculating, discovering, and putting ideas in young Reeve's head. And then right when he gets close, we'll pounce. Our little Reeve will then know what happens, when you are not loyal to the great Shinra," said the president evilly.

            "Let's expose them both, right when they think they're on to us. It will be front page material most definitely."

            "Rotterdam has indeed outlived his period of usefulness, but young Reeve could still be helpful," pondered the president with a hand on his chin.

            "What if we were to use Reeve _against_ our un-loyal vice-president?" Scarlet hinted maliciously.

            "Now, _you_ are being of use. Go on…"

****

            Sometimes it's amazing what a bunch of fighter jocks can do when we put our minds to it. A day after the surprise attack we had set up a new base in a totally different location, those Wutaians wouldn't find us this time. And I figured since I was in charge of a wing of three other men, we might as well work good as a unit, so we'd been running simulations together in the big old tent every minute possible.

            The sim tent, first off was a hell of a lot bigger than the other ones, but it had to be. Cause it held twelve combat flight simulators. Now I don't know the technology shit that goes along with 'em, but I do know a few things. One being, they are basically fighter cockpits, inside a fairly airtight box, that displays the images of you flying around all crazy tryin' to kick some Wutaian ass. They're all linked up too, so we can talk to each other like in a regular battle. And the last thing I know is that they're damn hot inside.

            "Twelve, roll left." I said casually.

            Twelve didn't move an inch off his course.

            "Twelve goddamnit roll left!"

            "Nah I'm good." Replied Azrael nonchalantly.

            Two seconds later his fighter was separated from itself into a few large chunks and littered across the simulated grassy plains.

            "All other fighters report in." I ordered, kind of pissed.

            Why the hell did that arse have to do that?

            "Eclipse Eight is kinda busy right now," said Winters, like he was concentrating on something else.

            "Eclipse Nine is covering Eight," reported a new transfer, Cyril.

            "No more fighters around here, goin' in for bombing run on target." Cyril continued.

            "I got your back Nine." piped in Winters.

            While I flew around the simworld it was obvious that our target, the warehouse, was the only thing left. Wait a minute, that's weird, something slowly coming out of a hill. Long, skinny, oh shit guns.

            "Eight an' Nine get the hell out of there!" I screamed.

            But it was too late, in seconds of each other the two little lights showing the two fighters on my console winked out. I went in for a run on my own, but the guns destroyed me. My screen abruptly went black and the door to my simulator was roughly thrown open by the simulator manager, letting in a slight breeze from outside.

            That slight breeze wasn't enough to cool my temper down though; Azrael Maiden needed to learn once and for all how things went around here. He was standing at a coffee station near the corner of the massive tent, when my arm spun him to face me and he spewed coffee all over his shirt in surprise.

            "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I demanded.

            "Flight Officer Azrael Maiden…" he drawled in mock confusion while pointing to his name patch.

            "Look kid, we don't have time for this shit."

            "So I didn't roll to the left, big deal," he said lazily.

            "No, you didn't. An' because of you we failed the mission. If you _had_ rolled to the fucking left you'd still have been around to help me take out that gun that tore us other three to shreds."

            "Guess I made a mistake, all apologies." he said, a bit peeved.

            "There are two kind of mistakes I read about in a book in school once, physical and mental ones. When you directly disobey orders that is a mental, fucking, mistake. And if there's one thing that I _can't stand_ it's a mental mistake. And the next time, my Fair Maiden, you make a mental mistake, you better hope to whatever god you pray to that ain't in the middle of a dogfight in a _real_ sky. Because then you're as good as dead."

            With that I turned around and headed to talk to Winters and Cyril.

            "By the way that coffee on your shirt is nice, really brings out your eyes!"

 ****   

The first thing that struck Godo was the intense shock buried deep within the surviving pilot's eyes. What he had seen would stay with him forever.

            "Lt. Daegon, it is an honor to finally meet you."

            "The honor is mine Lord Godo."

            The wizened Wutaian leader marveled at the fact that this man had been the only survivor of the recent attack.

            "Lieutenant Daegon, after looking through your records I have come to a conclusion. One, you are the only pilot to survive every conflict in this war so far, and two you should be, and are, promoted to colonel."

            The young colonel just stood there, tall and straight, no indication that he'd ever heard Lord Godo crossing his face. Perfect military procedure.

            "Thank you sir," he replied with a salute.

            "And now that you are the highest ranked pilot in Wutai, you need to earn the title."

            "How so sir?"

            "Tell me why we are losing this conflict in the sky. Why we must have families whose son's won't come home ever again, why the Shinra pilots look at our air force as a disgrace."

            "Because almost every pilot in our air force has little or no training." Daegon reported starkly.

            "Then we shall train them."

            "It takes time…" said Daegon annoyed.

            "Ah, time. A thing not in abundance, or in our favor. But we must fight on, and we will, and in time our pilots will be trained."

            "Yes sir." he said with a salute as he turned on his heel to the door.

            "I have one more request."

            Daegon turned partially back to face his Lord Godo.

            "Make the prisoner in Cell 13 talk."

            "Yes sir, and I will not fail our country. Soon the Shinra will be fleeing in our wake."

_Author's Note: Wow has been quite a while since I posted anything on here. Had most of this chapter written since the middle of August, just needed to finish off a few scenes. Don't know when more will come, I hope soon, the quarter is over so work is somewhat light now, maybe I can squeeze a few more chapters out before school cracks down on me again. – Diego Chavez_


	15. Friends & Enemies

Chapter 15

Friends, Enemies & Grumpy Commanders

One Week Later 

            "General Tandun sir, Strike Force Panther has found the camp." shouted a young private over the cacophony of Wutaian army command.

            Tandun stood in front of a large videoscreen that covered one wall of his command room, watching the infrared signals that represented Wutaian and Shinra soldiers milling about.

            "We have full visual contact with the enemy camp, awaiting orders." reported the strike force leader, Major Manarin.

            The portly general stared pensively for a moment and then turned to the radio operator.

            "Begin."

            "All forces go!" paraphrased the operator.

****

            The second Manarin heard the word "go" his gun was up and a young Shinra soldier was down from one of his bullets. Following their major's example Strike Force Panther dropped at least fifteen Shinra soldiers from afar before the camp even knew what'd hit them. And even when they did, they never stood a chance.

            Major Manarin was the first to charge the camp, and his men soon followed his example. The Shinra soldiers had finally stirred to life like some large ice creature waking from hibernation, yet they were nowhere near as formidable. The whole situation was quite amusing, men normally decked out to the fullest in uniform and medals were fighting in boxers and T-shirts.

            "Put that on a poster and see how many you get to join up…" Manarin thought to himself.

            But the situation suddenly became much more serious as four Shinra tanks rolled down the main road of the camp.

            "Orders sir…?" questioned a Wutaian corporal over his radio.

            "Original orders still stand." gritted the major through his teeth as he ran down from the hill towards the camp, dodging numerous bullets.

            Once the two groups met head to head in the camp things really got messy. If one was not careful they would not last for long, as Strike Force Panther soon learned.

            "Major behind you!" shouted an unknown Wutaian soldier.

            Manarin spun around just in time to give an enemy soldier a new orifice in his chest. And when he turned to thank his fellow soldier he saw the boy awkwardly drop to the ground, with a heavily armed Shinra soldier standing over him. Before the major could get a shot off the Shinra man had buried a handful of bullets in his chest, and he was no more.

            Manarin's partner, Podran watched in horror, the major had been his mentor, his friend, everything, and now gone in a few seconds. And the scariest aspect of all was that Podran was now in charge of the Wutaian unit, or what was left of them.

            "Strike Force Panther report in.," ordered General Tandun over the helmet radio.

            "Not now sir!" shouted Podran while suddenly dropping into a roll across the gravel to avoid a hail of bullets.

            It took the few surviving Wutaians a couple minutes more to put the rest of the unprepared Shinra soldiers down, but those pesky tanks still hadn't been dealt with, as a Wutaian man learned when the guns dirtied the road with his body. That repugnant scene triggered something in Podran's brain to give him an idea. A stack of large barrels was tucked between two tents, and upon closer inspection their labels could be read: **DARK BLACK**

            He sprinted over to them; narrowly missing the tanks' generous offer of decapitation, and with the minor setback of dousing his boots in black Podran had filled some small buckets with the thick paint. And so the Wutaian tactic of "painting tanks" was born. Carrying out the maneuver perfectly, the battle hardened soldier ran straight at the tanks screaming random insults and curses in Wutaian and whipped the sloshing buckets of paint right into the tanks' clear view plates.

            The Shinra men inside the tanks didn't know what to make of it, it was as if someone had turned off the sun, yet they quickly dismissed that as impossible. While they pondered other reasons the major and his men surrounded the tanks and extricated the enemy soldiers from inside them with just enough force to leave a mark.

            Once he was sure all Shinra personnel were either captives or bodies newly appointed leader Podran stepped off to the side to report back to the base, but the voice that answered was definitely not what he'd expected…

****

            Earlier that morning Commander Nairne was having his breakfast, good old fashioned vodka, straight from Nibelheim. Lately that bottle of imported liquor had been his only friend. The past week or so had been hell, training, meetings, having to deal with twits like Highwind. If only he had a friend to have a good laugh with… At one time that person had been Janus. But when Janus Apollo had been promoted to admiral and given command of Shinra's air force he'd ditched Nairne like an old shoe.

            "Commander Nairne report to the briefing tent." Ordered a voice over his personal communicator.

            With one last drink he set the bottle in a drawer carefully, as if it was some precious artifact, and headed off to the briefing tent.

****

            "This operation will be fairly small, but important nonetheless…" lectured Apollo.

            We're in the briefing tent, listening to the great admiral tell us about some stupid little mission or "conservative strike" as he calls them. And so all we did last week was conservative striking on all kinds of stupid little targets. I've only gotten two kills since the ambush on our old base. This one has to be kind of big though, since I'm invited. But as Apollo keeps talking I keep wishing I wasn't here, he's so _damn_ boring.

            "The target is what we believe to be one of the Wutaians' military command centers. Dragon will make a preliminary bombing run, covered by Eclipse. Phoenix is busy with their own mission. You launch in three hours. Good luck!" he reported, startling me at the end with his sudden shout and making his handlebar mustache twitch slightly.

            I gladly got up from the stiff folding metal chair and got the hell out of the tent before we had to listen to the admiral anymore. 

            As I walked down the dirt road of tents that I called home, Nairne shakily trudged by.

            "Hey boss you don't look so good." I half shouted.

            He spun around with a tired, drawn face that turned to a frown when he saw me.

            "Go the fuck away Highwind."

            With that he stepped inside his tent.

            What was eating that guy? It was like I'd killed his brother or something. He really needs to calm the hell down.

****

            "Approaching target, ETA 1 minute." reported Thanton, a fellow lieutenant and leader of Second Flight in Eclipse.

            The communication woke me up from my trance, flying straight for a while makes you tired.

            "Three Flight report in." I ordered.

            "Winters here."

            "Cyril good to go."

            Then Eleven, which is me, and my new best friend…

            "Azrael Maiden rolling left."

            He is gonna pay for that when we get back…

            Thanton shifted my thoughts off of revenge soon enough though.

            "Target reached, good luck all."

            Commander Kahne of the Dragons took over from there.

            "Commencing first bombing run."

            The Dragons were a ways in front but a nice big set of explosions in the distance showed clearly enough that they'd hit.

            "Two Flight commence your run. Still no sign of hostiles in the air." reported Kahne.

            And a couple of minutes later there were still no Wutaians with us up in the air. Where the hell is everybody? My questions was answered to soon when something pinged off my canopy, and then another something.

            "Eclipse Eleven here, I'm getting strange things hittin' my window."

            "Deal with it then. I ain't your babysitter." replied Nairne.

            What a bastard…

            Then suddenly another something hit the canopy, but this time it got through, making a hole in my nice clear view port. And then another, burying itself in my seat, a little too close to my shoulder. Fuck they're bullets, since they were coming in one by one they didn't break the canopy immediately, just weakened it until finally shattering the glass.

            "Eclipse Eleven taking fire!" I yelled.

            "Eclipse Ten taking bullets, one in my shoulder, two in my other shoulder, can't control fighter, going down!" cried Cyril.

            Shit, guess I'm not the only one.     

            "Shut up we have a squadron of hostiles coming in fast!" screamed Thanton.

            Sure enough we did. So making covering the Dragons' a second thought I dove right into the middle of those bastards. Must have surprised 'em too because putting bullets through _their_ canopies was easier than painting in Kindergarten. Maiden and the rest of Three Flight joined me pretty quick, but everyone else in Eclipse, especially Nairne, were pretty slow helping me out.

            Oh well, more Wutaians for me. My first two kills were from drilling holes in their windows with as many bullets as possible. What goes around comes around.

            By then Maiden had my back and it was time to really chalk up some kills. As much of a pain in the ass as he is he's still a damn good wingman, all because of my training of course.

            One bastard in particular was really starting to piss me off though. He just _wouldn't_ let me get a clean shot on him. Maiden was off dealing with his own problems, so it's just me and my brand new Wutaian friend. He's not a very good friend though, won't even let me near him. And so we're playing a little game of follow the leader up in the sky, wherever he goes, I follow.

            Finally! The other pilot must have gotten tired because he flew right into my crosshairs. And with a nice friendly pat on the back from my guns his dead body was tossed into the air along with other random pieces of his fighter.

            Three kills, good, but I like even numbers better. That chance was taken by Winters though with a nice clean short into the enemy's engines. With that the Wutaian squad was no more, Thanton's flight and Maiden had gotten the rest. In sync with our victory, the Dragon's had their own, totally crippling the commander center with one last round of bombs.

            "All Shinra fighters land, we have just been ordered to make sure the building is clear, on foot, and also must recover all downed pilots." ordered Kahne.

            Oh great, this could get messy.

****

            Luckily it didn't, the Dragons had done their job well. Only two or three Wutaians had survived and we decided to take them captive. Something about this just seems too easy though…

            The actual war room itself had been hit the hardest. Its roof had vanished, leaving only some charred walls and sparking computers. Although one piece of equipment had survived, the radio. And that very same radio scared the shit out of me two seconds later.

            "Podran reporting in, Major Manarin has been K.I.A. But the camp has been taken, awaiting orders." crackled a voice on the radio.

            I figured it's not very nice to keep a guy waiting, so I thumbed the button to send an outgoing message.

            "Podran or whoever you are. This is Shinra Lieutenant Cid Highwind, your boss is dead next to my feet right now, but I'll still give you some orders. Go to hell."

Note – Took a bit to get this up, but I had to really re-work the first section cause when I first wrote it, it was midnight. But have no fear, Chapter 16 is three quarters of the way done and is on it's way shortly. Adios!


	16. A Not So Simple Game Of Tag

Chapter 16

            The next day back at Shinra's air force base a single tear slowly formed in a young man's eye and meandered its way down his cheek. Why the tear, some would ask? One cannot fully digest the answer to this question without actually putting themselves _in_ the shoes of Hector Winters.

            And that was just what Hector did, only these shoes weren't his combat boots, in fact there were no shoes at all on this version of Hector, for he was twelve, and money had been scarce in his family.

****

            Young Hector had always loved to play tag, and in this memory he was coincidentally enough playing tag. Like in any other proper game of tag in Lircos Hector's friends Jan and Niko were playing with him out on the dirt street which served as the main road for the village of Lircos. Both Jan and Niko had been lifelong friends of Hector's, although Jan was a good three or four years older than the other two. Even after an hour of running around frantically the boys weren't tired.

            Hector had managed to evade every attempt made by his friends at tagging him so far and was quite proud of himself. Niko was it, and had been for about twenty or so minutes, and he was getting rather bored with the job. Suddenly Niko's boredom ceased though, for he had finally come close to a prime target, Hector. Hector felt the firm presence of Niko's hand on his back, but suddenly that presence grew stronger and Hector plummeted to the ground, greeting a sharp rock at his head. Hector was it, but there more important things to deal with at the moment.

            Hector did not remember much of the time between his fall and waking in bed, but Jan and Niko gladly volunteered it later, as well as an extremely sincere apology from Niko. Apparently the rock had opened up the entire right side of his face. A very bloody affair, or so says Jan, Niko ran off to his house crying immediately after Hector fell.

            A nearby shopkeeper watched the whole event and immediately came out and carried Hector off to his bed where he could be treated. But the town medic and the boy's parents received quite a shock when they found the bloody gash gone, replaced by a long, thing glowing scar. Although his blue shirt was forever stained with blood. 

****    

The adults never found any plausible explanation, and so it was not talked of. Though, as in any community, word got around and the Winters' became people one would look at suspiciously when passing by. They weren't like everyone else, especially the young boy; he was the oddest of them all, if only they'd known how wrong they were. Hector still lead a fairly normal life for the most part, until over the course of two years something strange began to happen.

            Mr. & Mrs. Winters had always been good people, leading a very mundane life, ever servile to the will of Shinra. They were the model citizens and parents, never stepping out of their place or questioning the rule of Shinra. Of course being in this mindset made them view Hector's incident as a horrible thing, but they still loved him, although cautiously. For this was how their religion, the religion Shinra had imported to their destitute village, had instructed them to deal with the bad things recently occurring in their life. But their religion had no scripture, or guidance for how to deal with the problems that would soon confront them. 

            Mrs. Winters had always been very healthy; she ate well and ran a fast paced two miles every morning. So when she suddenly could not complete her runs it puzzled her, for she was still fairly young at forty-three, and had never before had any health problems. But after about a mile her bones ached with a pain unlike any other, as if they could sporadically break at any moment. And soon her body could not even carry her to work, to the point that she had to take a week's leave to try and recuperate. 

            In that week the Winters' household was quite macabre, for Mrs. Winters had staked out her domain to include all of the living room, and so she lay, like some old deflated basketball, slowly losing it's air, waiting to be thrown out. Of course with the absence of a second paycheck Mr. Winters had to work double shifts to keep the family going. 

            It was the double shifts that were the downfall of the Winters family. Mr. Winters had always worked during the day, but with the double shift he was working virtually around the clock, straight through the night with a few hours for break and right on to the next day. Though he always found time everyday to read a small passage from the Shinra manufactured Bible.

            But being faithful did not save Mr. Winters, as much as he'd hoped it would. For one night at the end of the first week in which his wife was sick, something occurred in the factory, something that never should have happened. 

            The factory produced many things, too many to be named, but in almost every sector there was an abundance of feverish pistons and other rapidly moving machinery. There was one sector in particular which was notorious for it's malfunctioning machinery, resulting in many deaths. And so there was quite a dearth of people willing to even enter the area. Thus whenever a new employee applied they would always be transferred to the infamous sector, and when Mr. Winters applied for a second shift, just like any other employee, he was transferred to that sector. 

            His luck had held out for the week or so he'd been working double shifts, but one ill-fated night that changed. On that night there was only one other person working in that sector, and together they toiled away into the night and almost clear on to morning. Yet their progress would be forever halted quite soon.

            No one really knows what happened in that sector on that night, but this much can be assumed. The central structure in the area was a large set of steel gears, which powered all the other machinery in the room when moving. It is assumed that somehow a gear came loose, and that one gear being the catalyst in some large reaction, brought everything around them crashing down, and in that span of seconds, the two men were crushed.

            The incident was not discovered until the next shift, when a trio of workers came in to take over, and found the sector in shambles. After a three week long period of cleanup the two bodies were found, although quite different looking in their squished state. Shinra sent their deepest condolences to the families, but by this time Mrs. Winters was quite sick, and it is not known if she ever fully comprehended the news.

            Through it all young Hector, at the time thirteen, passing on fourteen, shut himself in his room, refusing to go to school or even to visit his mother. With this began a tradition of mis-education that Hector never broke, never again was a school graced by his presence.

            So he grew up as an outcast, he never socialized, never went to school. He taught himself all he needed to know, and once he was satisfied with his education he took to wandering. At first it was just out in the fields around Lircos, but it soon escalated to much more serious explorations.

            His interest now lay in poking around buildings, sometimes occupied ones, and "borrowing" anything he found useful. But it never mattered if the buildings were occupied or not, for Hector never got caught. And so the rumor of "The Phantom" grew all over Lircos as things began missing from everyone's houses. So Hector began to think of himself as invincible, for if he hadn't been caught yet, why would he ever be caught? That attitude held strong, until one night when "The Phantom" was put to rest.

****

            The night was like any other, cold, dark and most of all, still as death. Except for one thing, the kind of movement that you caught out of the corner of your eye, like a leaf blowing across the street. But this movement was much more than a leaf; it was a boy, about fourteen, with dark brown hair and a look in his eyes far beyond his years. This boy was Hector Winters, but recently more well known as "The Phantom".

            It had started out like any other evening, slipping out of the house, getting a feel for the night, such as guards, weather etcetera, and then hitting the target. 

The target tonight was a boring one, the water regulator building controlled by Shinra. And it wouldn't have been interesting for any other reason than the Shinra symbol on the door. Shinra, the people who employed every single able bodied citizen in Lircos. Without them the village of Lircos could not exist, the people would die, for Shinra also controlled the single grocery store.

What the water regulators held that was so interesting, Hector did not know, but he had a feeling about them, and that was all that mattered. The lock on the door proved interesting in itself, a level three security clearance, pretty high from some water pumps. But Hector hacked through it and the second the doors opened he knew that these were more than some ordinary water pumps.

The building was much larger than it's single brick one story showing above ground, a quick glance down made him slightly dizzy, a good ten stories were visible burrowing down into the earth, if not more. And stiffly clanking around these levels of catwalks were a pair of guards in the standard Shinra blue. This would prove his greatest challenge yet, but he was up to it.

Since the guards were heading downwards on their patrol he had free reign of the upper levels. And so he traipsed around conspicuously, almost forgetting he still had to keep his presence secret. What Hector was not aware of though at the time, was that his every step was being watched.

But oblivious to having been detected, he made his way down to a large set of circular feeder tanks. At first he assumed these held purifying chemicals, but upon closer inspection he read the word: **MAKO **stamped on the side. Mako? He'd never read about that in any of his science books, odd. Any time to further investigate was lost though as a gruff shout of "Hey!" startled him.

And to accompany that shout was the sound of rapidly clanging boots on the metal steps, running up towards the intruder. That was all Hector needed to take off at the fastest sprint he'd ever done, this wasn't tag any more. To his dismay the door he'd come in through was jammed shut in some sort of building-wide security lockdown, and the two soldiers were still coming. 

As the first blue clad man came up the final flight or stairs Hector picked up a loose rusty metal pipe from the labyrinth of outgoing water pumps along the wall and swung it like a baseball bat right into the soldier's skull. A sickly thud resounded over the steady hum of machinery, sending a chill up Hector's spine followed by the sound of the man's limp body tumbling down the stairs.

            Hector made a dash in a random direction, but soon realized there was still one more guard. That one more toppled young Hector to the ground while in mid thought. Basic instinct caused the boy to jab his elbow into the man's gut, which was just enough to make the soldier loosen his grip for Hector to escape. But to where? He answered his own question as the soldier grabbed his leg, causing the boy to reflexively kick him in the face and without another though vault over the steel railing into the abyss of pipes and catwalks.

****

            The first thing that struck Hector when he woke up was the lack of color. Every square inch of his surroundings were devoid of any life or substance. It was as if he was floating in a sea of white, nothing anchoring him down. But suddenly the anchor buried itself in the sand as a hole appeared in the wall and there stood a silhouette.

            Then, as if being drawn in by some unseen cartoonist the silhouette filled out to show a wiry man standing in the doorway. At first he made no motion, just stood there, but then something clicked on inside his head and he stepped inside, door closing behind him. The man was dressed in standard attire for a Shinra worker, except his uniform, which held no tag designating a sector or other identification number. His hair had been fashioned into a crew cut, yet a few unruly blond strands had begun to poke out from the main body of hair, almost time for another cut. 

            Hector had no chance to take in any more of the man though, because suddenly he found himself sprawled across the floor of the white cube, with a dull pain in his back where something had connected with his spine. 

            "I hope you have finally realized that this is a bit more complicated than a petty game of tag." sneered the Shinra man. 

            That voice was very familiar, yet Hector could not seem to place it.

            "Get up you wretch." ordered the other man. 

            Hector obeyed, slowly turning around and getting to his feet. It was then that he realized how he knew the voice, and a sudden chill came over him. He was staring into the hazel eyes of his childhood friend Jan.

            "I see it didn't take much for them to bend you to their will." Hector said scathingly.

            Jan punched him cleanly across the jaw, momentarily moving the boy's head into an awkward angle on his neck.

            "Next time you talk without being asked to, the consequences will be more severe." admonished Jan.

            Hector nodded reluctantly, he would have to play Jan's game for now.

            "I have been sent here to get some information from you. Just the basics, so we can properly detain you without any legal entanglements. Your name I already know, along with the basic information. But now we come down to the most pressing question. What the hell are you doing here?" said Jan, lowering his eyes to look into Hectors' on the last sentence.

            "I don't really have a good answer for that." replied Hector.

            Jan sighed and averted his gaze from the boy.

            "All right then, I'd say your fate is sealed." the man said with a smirk.

            And so ended the brief questioning, for Jan turned on his heel and walked right out the door.

****

            But Hector was not alone for long, about ten minutes later the whiteness opened and a burly arm reached through to roughly pull Hector out into the hallway. He resisted for a moment, to get one last look at his brief home, the white prison, and then let himself be dragged out.

            The blackness turned out to be a brightly lit corridor lined with what seemed to be a series of white rooms like the one he'd just been in. Hector didn't get much of a chance to look though, for it seemed his guard was intent on making him as uncomfortable as possible, by jamming a metal rod into his vertebrae and roughly pushing him along at a good pace.

            Hector did manage to catch a glimpse of one cell, which had its door open. What he saw inside was rather disturbing, crimson blood stained the pristine white walls in blotches, most likely a result of Jan's brutality. 

            After that cell the area changed, and a set of stairs presented itself at the end of the hallway. The steep, corrugated steel steps lead to a short hallway with what seemed to be laboratories on either side, and a blank door at the end. The door opened upon receiving a code from the guard on a keypad. And so with a strong shove from his escort Hector entered the room.

            It was practically the size of a closet and painted entirely black, save the walls to Hector's left and right. On these walls were two small, yet noticeable holes. Suddenly a pair of thin, circular, metal arms protruded from the holes, and wrapped themselves around Hector's waist, so as to make sure he didn't move. The reason for this soon became obvious as thousands of light beams illuminated him, and even passed through his body from almost every angle.

            This all happened within a few seconds, but it seemed like forever. And then it was over just as quickly as it'd begun. With a hollow beep, followed by a metallic click a door opened in front of Hector, revealing a small office.

            The walls were brick, poorly painted, with a now peeling, grayish tone. Dirty, worn carpet covered the floor, having been walked on so many times that all original color was gone. The room itself was cluttered with every science book imaginable, along with various documents, piled high on tables and cabinets. And at the center of it all was a cheap, old, metal desk, equally as cluttered as the rest of the room.

            A single, hanging light bulb, dimly lit the area and at first it appeared that there was no one else in the room. Suddenly though, as Hector's eyes adjusted to the light, a thin, pale figure was visible sitting at the desk. He wore a dirtied lab coat and a pair of cracked spectacles.

            "Come in quickly, the B.A.M malfunctions when exposed to this filthy air for too long." snapped the man.

            Obeying Hector stepped into the office, hearing the door rapidly click shut, and the filtering fans click on inside the small room behind him.

            "What the hell is a B.A.M?" asked Hector skeptically.

            "Body Analyzer Machine, it checks for any harmful substances, and also gives a complete reading of your body. Your reading is rather interesting…" explained the man.

            "Who are you anyway?" Hector wondered out loud.

            "Full of questions aren't you?" sneered the man, "Professor Hojo. Now stop interrupting me. As I was saying, your B.A.M. reading is surprising. It shows the Mako concentration in your body to be around 45%, one of the highest I've seen yet."

            "What's this Mako stuff anyway? It's all over the place, wherever this place is…" 

            A smirk began to form on Hojo's face.

            "What is Mako? What is Mako?!"

            The professor suddenly broke out into a fit of cackling laughter, stopping only when his lungs could not handle the work anymore, and he began to cough violently. Once he'd recovered he began again.

            "Mako is _the_ greatest discovery of mankind, it has put us where we are today!"

            By this point young Hector was beginning to become a bit perplexed, and also somewhat skeptical.

            "That didn't help." Hector said blankly.

            "Of course it didn't, not for an ignorant little boy like you. Even with it making up almost half of your body you still cannot feel it's raw power, it's beauty. But there may still be hope for you."  
            Hector just stood there, and so Hojo continued.

            "You could be a great asset. With such a high concentration and no damage. But first you will have to let go, let go of your normal life. Leave it all behind." said Hojo, incorporating some random hand gestures.

            "Look can I leave now? You're starting to get kinda creepy, and I don't want to join anything that you promote so much." Hector said, as he moved to the door.

            Hojo made no motion to stop him, and Hector kept on slowly backing towards the door, eyes fixed suspiciously on the professor the whole time.

            "Why are you leaving so soon, don't you want to know why your mother is sick?" Hojo asked suddenly. 

            At this Hector snapped around to face the professor.

            "I did not just bring you here to say hello, you'll need to know a few things before you continue on."

            Hector waited for more information attentively.

            "This substance, Mako, that you so quickly scoff at, is everywhere in this pitiful little town. Every drink you take, every morsel of food you consume, contains this. But it is an unpredictable thing. At first the population was reduced drastically in just a few years due to 'unconfirmed poisoning'. That was the Mako at work, when introduced to suck a weak body as a human's, it wreaks havoc. And so we worked to harness it's energy." cried Hojo, making a tight fist of his gnarled hand.

            "Only in the past ten or so years have we been able to control it. And so in most cases the Mako has begun to strengthen the bodies in the population, in a number of ways. In most every case the specimen has a very high level of endurance, along with numerous other qualities. For example your former friend Niko only has a very high level of stamina, nothing else; whereas that twerp Jan supposedly possesses a superior brain. You we have yet to full assess though. It is obvious your stamina is high, along with some regenerative capabilities, which were displayed in your tag incident, but nothing else is known at the moment."

            "The only problem is that sometimes the concentration can become too high and at that point the specimen almost always becomes ill. This is the case with your mother, here concentration is somewhere around 40%. That is why I find you quite interesting, for your concentration exceeds 40% yet you are perfectly healthy."

            At that moment Hector felt so unclean, as if the Mako was polluting his body as they spoke, which as a matter of fact it was.

            "You cannot get rid of it, you must accept it" said Hojo, as if having read the boy's thoughts.

            Hector just stood there, staring at some unknown point on the wall for an eternity.

            The professor let him go that night, much to the dismay of Jan and the guards.

****

            After that he ceased all of his nighttime prowling, primarily to tend to his mother. The Mako had almost fully saturated her, but he still held out some hope for her well being, but his hope was in vain. Hector's mother passed away the next spring, leaving him all alone in the world.

            Of course without an income he could no longer afford their house, and so with a backpack full of essential tools and such he set up an existence in the fields outside of the town. And that was why, a year later, he was not killed when Lircos was reduced to rubble.

****

            This thought was the last in his remembering for the night, because at that moment Cid walked into the bunkroom, and Hector couldn't have the lieutenant see him in his current state. So he quickly wiped the tear from his eye, turned over on his stomach, and fell asleep.

_Note: Sorry it took a while to get this one up, I will try to be a bit quicker with writing 17, but this one was a beast to do, and I had to cut and reform a lot of scenes, hope it was worth it._


	17. The Shinra Blues

Chapter 17

Shinra Blues

            He stifled a cry of pain as a loud click sounded, indicating that his jawbone had been knocked out of place. Most likely from the booted foot that'd just connected with his chin. 

            "Now Mr. Clifton, I will ask you once more, what do you know of the Shinra Air Force?" demanded the colonel, coldly.

            Lennie looked up at Colonel Daegon hopefully, no more violence, his eyes begged. But when Daegon slowly brought his foot back, ready to kick, Lennie spoke. 

            "I, I don't know, there are fighter wings, and a commander, and…" revealed Lennie, although his speech was a bit slurred, due to the new position of his jaw.

            Daegon corrected that by giving the prisoner another firm kick, resetting the dislocated bone. By this point the Shinra pilot was sprawled across the floor, his blood slowly seeping across the damp concrete floor.

            "That we already know, my dear, Mr. Clifton."

            "Well that is all _I_ know, my dear, ugly, interrogator." choked out Lennie.

            The Wutaian chose a different target on the weak organism that was the Shinra pilot this time, his broken right arm. He dragged the other man up by his yellow, dyed hair with the might of one muscular arm, and took the broken arm into one hand. 

            "You seem to be having some difficulty with the first question, let us try a new one. Who are the commanding officers in your airforce?" asked the colonel.

            "I don't know." answered Lennie, defiantly.

            Daegon then turned his attention to Lennie's broken arm, which the Wutaian man still held in his hand. He stared at it with his cold, blue eyes for a moment, and then with one sudden motion, wrenched it out of the sling at a sickly angle. The cloth of the sling even tore from the immense force exerted, along with many other ligaments and tendons, brutally ripped from their positions. 

            Despite his best efforts not to, Lennie screamed, a wild, animal cry of pain. This caused Daegon to toss the man's limp body into the wall, like some child's rag doll. And there Lennie stayed, after his body ricocheted off of the sharp edge of his metal table with a jarring crunch, and sank to the floor slowly.

            With this Daegon quickly turned away from the repugnant scene and opened the cell door. But before making his final exit, he turned around to say one last thing to Lennie.

            "You stick so closely to your little adage of never betraying your friends, but did you ever stop to think. A true pilot never lets his wingman down, and a true squadron always finds a downed man. What if your friends, have already betrayed you?"

            And so he left the broken man to think, and think he did, until his brain got tired of thinking, and slid into unconsciousness.

****

            What had a couple of weeks ago been a bustling center of activity had been reduced to a deathly silent, empty hangar, Rotterdam mused. He was standing in the middle of Eclipse Squadron's old base in the Shinra tower. He had come, hoping for some more clues to what had gone on in this squadron. But all he'd found was a cold, large, concrete space, and some grease stains.

            And so his knowledge was still the same. Shinra wanted more materia, and Wutai had it. Which is why the two were at war, yet the instigation of that war was still foggy. He knew for certain that the accidental training crash and maybe even Lircos tied in, but how, was the question. He would never get anywhere without anymore evidence though, a thing not in abundance lately.

            With that thought he turned around to leave. For the large, metal doors that led outside were slightly open, making it a bit drafty, and his finely tailored suit was not enough to keep him warm. Yet just before he reached the elevator a gust of wind whipped a piece of paper right into his face. Curiously he grabbed it to read.

Attn: Comdr. Nairne

Re: New Cockpit Ejection Safety Measures

A shipment of the new automatic ejection mechanisms has been sent, to replace the hazardous manual levers. Please install them as soon as possible.

Rotterdam folded it and placed it inside his pocket. The memo had little significance; the real value lay in the fact that the memo was to Commander Nairne. With this realization his eyes strayed to a previously undiscovered room. With this new attention the room, his ears suddenly picked up a fairly recent blues song emanating from within.

"I lost my man, off to the war. But I know, that he'll be all right. Cause he's fighting for Shinra, and Shinra always makes everything alright." sang a young woman, accompanied by a sad sounding guitar.

As Rotterdam stepped closer he was startled to find an old custodian inside, loading some filing cabinets on to a motorized cart. Another glance revealed a small, wall-mounted placard, stating that this used to be Nairne's office. 

The droning music brought his attention back to the custodian quickly though. It seemed that the old man hadn't even noticed him. His head bobbed slowly to the beat, setting the remaining clumps of gray hair he possessed into a swaying motion. He wore a stained, old blue work suit; which held a sewn on name patch, beginning to fall off, that read 'Earl'.

"Excuse me." Rotterdam said politely.

The old man didn't flinch, the radio was on so loud, and his head was bent down, so he could not see, or hear, the vice president.

"Excuse me!" shouted a now slightly agitated Rotterdam.

At this the man half jumped, rather startled. It took a minute for Rotterdam's status to register, but it soon did, the vice president had made dozens of television appearances during his career.

"Mr. Rotterdam!" the old man exclaimed, while hastily turning off the radio, "I sure am sorry, it's just that we don't normally see gentleman as high up as yourself around here so I…" rattled off Earl, nervously.

Through this all Rotterdam stood stoically.

"No need to explain yourself, Earl, I believe," he said, checking the name patch again, "I'd just found this memo and wondered if there might be more where it came from." questioned the vice president, holding up the newfound memo.

Earl carefully took the memo from Rotterdam's hand, and studied it for a moment.

"Oh yeah, I remember this. I was talkin' with Joe Green over some coffee in the cafeteria, 'bout a month or so back I'd say. He was the head mechanic for this squad ya know. But anyhow, I guess this Nairne fella refused to have one o' them things put in. Said he'd rather control the ejection himself…" prattled on the old man.

"That's very nice, but that was not my question. I want to know if you have any _more_ of these." demanded Rotterdam, while briskly snatching the memo from the other man's hand.

Earl took a small step back, and motioned to the filing cabinets.

"Well yes, these cabinets are full of 'em. I was just about to bring it all down to the incinerator."

"No!" cried Rotterdam, "No you can't burn those…"

"My super said…" interrupted Earl.

"I don't care. I am the vice-president of this entire enterprise, and I am asking you to give me the contents of those filing cabinets." said Rotterdam, a bit more composed.

"Now if you would be so kind as to take these down to my car, I would greatly appreciate it. And do not let _anyone_ know about this, understood?"

"Yes sir," confirmed the custodian, somewhat shakily.

Rotterdam cringed slightly, abusing power was not a thing he normally did. But when the fate of a country lay at stake, he found it perfectly acceptable.

****

            Oblivious to Rotterdam's new discovery, Reeve found himself working late once again. Everyone else in his department had gone home at least an hour ago. Home to families and friends, things that he really did not have.

            He'd tried talking with some of the other executives, and even people in the lower positions around him. But they were all so wrapped up in Shinra, in all its supposed greatness. All except Rotterdam, the one person in Shinra that Reeve had yet to figure out. Rotterdam could almost be considered a friend, but it seemed that the only basis of that friendship was a mutual skepticism of Shinra's intentions in this war. Intentions that the vice-president strongly believed were malicious.

            But none of those thoughts were conducive to the current plan he had to approve, so he went back to work.

            A knock on his frosted glass door cut that abruptly short though. At first he almost didn't answer, who could still be around this late? Maybe a custodian.

            "Mr. Reeve?" asked a feminine voice.

            "Um, yes?" responded the young exec, not moving an inch from his comfortable leather swivel chair.

            "May I come in?"         

            Who was this?

            "Of course." he replied, now staring intently at the door.

            With a slight squeak, the door opened, he had to get someone to oil that. To his surprise one of the last people he'd ever expect to see at his office, Scarlet, stepped in.

            "Well Mr. Reeve, I saw the light on and figured I would come down to say hi." she said, closing the door as she walked in.

            "Hi." Reeve replied, going back to his work, if Scarlet wanted to talk to him, it could not be good.

            "Now Mr. Reeve there is no need to ignore me like that, I've only come down to say hello." she said, feigning hurt.

            "And, if I recall correctly, I said hello back. Now if you would please excuse me, I need to finish reading over this plan. Good night." he said, not taking his eyes off of the papers on his desk.

            Scarlet was not pleased with his response.

            "Well Mr. Reeve you can just go on being rude, it doesn't bother me. But I hope you realize that one day your actions may return to haunt you. Good night Mr. Reeve." she said harshly, exiting the room without even closing the door.

            For a moment this bothered Reeve, but he soon pushed it out of his mind, he had never felt threatened by Scarlet before, and he did not plan to start.

****

            While night was at it's peak in Midgar, the sun was just rising across the world in Wutai. The skies were clear, the air crisp, to a young apprentice this day would have seemed innocent and inviting. But the birds told Lord Godo otherwise, they spoke of a foreboding disappointment. The lord was wrapped only in a tan robe, perched on the railing of his balcony, overlooking all of Wutai. 

            As he began to sink into a deeper meditation, to try and seek out this disappointment, a skinny figure burst out of this balcony doors and wrapped their arms around the lord's neck. All in good fun though, for this figure had no intention of violence, just expressing their love.

            "Dad!" exclaimed the young girl.

            Godo had all he could do to keep himself from falling off of the railing, startled by this new arrival.

            "Yuffie dear…" he half choked out, still struggling to keep his balance.

            At that moment a young guard burst in.

            "I'm terribly sorry sir, I tried to stop her but…" he explained nervously.

            By this point Yuffie had released her lock on her father's neck, allowing him to step down onto sure footing on the balcony.

            "No further worries are necessary. I have not seen my daughter for a quite a few days, I think she should be allowed to come in. Thank you for your concern though." said the lord with a dismissive wave of his hand.

            Once the guard was gone, Godo gave his daughter a warm hug.

            "How was your trip into the mountains?" he asked curiously, while realizing how much his daughter had grown in the past few years, and she was only 12!

            "It was great, and look what I got!" she said, sifting around in a leather pouch at her waist.

            She finally pulled out a small, glowing orb.

            "Yuffie! You know that materia stealing is a crime, where did you get that?" asked Godo, trying to sound angry, but inside he couldn't help but admire her cunning.

            "It was easy, I just snuck into one of the mines, and…"

            The young girl was interrupted, as yet another person burst onto the balcony, but this person was not quite as happy as Yuffie.

            "Colonel Daegon, I do not recall telling you to come up here." said the lord, irritated.

            "Yes sir, I know that, but I have news of our guest downstairs."

            At this Lord Godo's mood changed from happy to quite serious.

            "Yuffie dear, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have some business to attend to." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

            "But dad…" whined the girl.

            "I will see you tonight."

            Without another word she stormed off, but was soon replaced by the young guard.

            "Sir, once again I am quite sorry, I tried to stop…"

            "And once again I remind you, do not worry. I am not surprised that Colonel Daegon made it past you, the issue of that formidable little girl on the other hand, is another matter." Godo said, displaying some rare sarcasm.

            "We have important business to attend to, go away." said Daegon sternly.

            Once he was sure they were alone, the colonel spoke about their "guest".

            "The prisoner refuses to yield any information." Daegon said angrily.

            So this was the disappointment the birds spoke of.

            "Are you not up to the task I have appointed you, colonel?"

            At this Daegon's face turned slightly red, in anger.

            "I am not at all daunted by this enemy prisoner…" he fumed.

            "Yet you seem to be having some difficulty with him. Perhaps you should stay on your main path of training pilots, and let Staniv handle this." suggested Godo.

            Admit failure to Staniv? He would never dream of giving that mere lackey of the Lord Godo such pleasure.

            "Sir have you considered that this pilot may not know anything?"

            "That is a possibility, yet an unlikely one. If that is the case though, our other source should be sufficient."

            "Other source sir?" asked Daegon, confusedly.

            "Yes. Recently an outside informant, who claims they can give us valuable information about the Shinra forces, has contacted us. Whether or not they speak truthfully, we have yet to see."

            At this Daegon was rather surprised, who was this "informant"?

            "Go, and train your pilots, the birds are now foretelling other events, events of combat. I'm sure our source will substantiate this soon enough."

            Yet even Lord Godo was a bit curious, and so the main question remained.

            Who?

****

            Black Hawk

            Rendezvous at location known to messenger at 0300. Password to confirm credibility of messenger "Thunderclap." Respond when message received.

            Red Tiger

            General Sephiroth surveyed the letter once more. When he was satisfied he quickly typed it into his portable field computer. With another key command the letter was loaded onto a small disk, which could only be activated by Apollo's voice. And even if the disk was intercepted, little could be gotten from it.

            Only Sephiroth and Apollo knew the codenames for air and army commanders; and although the time had been stated, the Wutaians could not be everywhere at once. Which was why the location had been entrusted to the messenger; for enemies would most likely shoot the man down if he was ambushed, and so the information would be lost to the them forever.

            As the data was transferred the general surveyed their situation on his map, spread across a large card table, The specially made map encompassed the bulk of the Wutaian mountains, where almost all military activity had been going on. And right in the center of the whole mess was a massive Wutaian facility; formerly the main mining complex, but more recently converted to the enemies' military headquarters. A rather stupid move it seemed, but in fact it was quite pragmatic. 

For in those very mountains was the main reason for this war, the materia mines. The things that the Wutaians would give their lives to protect, while the Shinra forces would take the lives of those very same Wutaians to conquer. Of course this fact was not widely advertised amongst the Shinra forces, it was better for the soldiers to think of the enemy as unintelligent, and easy to defeat. And besides if they heard about the mines, they might want some materia for themselves.

But none of that would be a problem, since Operation Diamond Edge had been successful, and the Wutaians were tightly hemmed in. O.D.E, as the troops had taken to calling it, was quite simple. It was basically the movement and positioning of Shinra forces at every possible location, around the perimeter of the mountain area.  Over the past week or so the Shinra forces had locked down the area, trapping all Wutaian forces inside. Although Sephiroth had not seen very much of this yet, for the Shinra military base was located safely outside of the hot zone.

Soon though, every single soldier available, including the general, would be thrust into the middle of it all; the time for Operation Thunderclap had finally come. In one swift motion, the Shinra forces, when ordered of course, would move in on the Wutaian facility, and take it; thus gaining the materia mines. But this plan could never work without the cooperation of the air force.

Because the facility was very heavily guarded, including all kinds of anti-tank and anti-aircraft weapons. And most likely the place would be swarming with fighters. So Sephiroth had decided to enlist Apollo and his pilots in this battle, they would be quite helpful. Which was why Apollo must be contacted, to discuss the planning of this event that would surely go down in every Shinra history book across the world.

Oddly enough, as Sephiroth finished that thought, the disk finished loading. Hearing the distinctive beep to confirm completion, the general got up from his metal stool and retrieved the disk. He then set off to find the lucky young soldier who to be messenger for the day.

As he stepped out onto the main road of the camp he found that it was clogged with dozens of fit, young recruits. Yet the general would not take just anyone; he needed someone dumb enough to not realize the danger, but smart enough to do the job right. 

Suddenly he came upon a lone, young man. He leaned against a pole, leisurely smoking a cigarette. At first the man didn't even notice the general, but once he did he practically soiled himself. He frantically dropped his cigarette on the ground, and stubbed it out with his boot.

"General Sephiroth sir!" shouted the young soldier, standing tall and straight, with a salute.

"Name and rank?" ordered Sephiroth.

"Private Delson sir!"

If this man was any example of the average soldier in Sephiroth's army, then Shinra was in good shape.

"At ease private. Why are you here, waiting to meet someone?"

"No sir…" replied Delson, puzzled.

Good, he had no companions; no one would miss him.

"I have a mission for you. You must take this disk to the air force base, and give it to the admiral there. He will ask you for a password, the password is "Thunderclap". He will then ask for a location. This mission is to be mentioned to absolutely no one else, understood?"

The soldier did not even hesitate before accepting the mission, anything for Shinra. Sephiroth then entrusted the man with a set of coordinates, and made him commit them to memory.

"What mode of transportation will I be using sir?"

"Your feet." Sephiroth said flatly.

It may have been cruel, but it was the only way the young soldier could make it; any type of vehicle would have been too conspicuous.

"Will I have any means of protection?"

"Your gun."

Delson suddenly accepted the grim realization that he would probably not be returning from this mission. Apparently his countenance betrayed that.

"It is too late to be having second thoughts private, collect a minimum amount of gear and move out. I will inform your squad leader." finished Sephiroth, walking away.

"Yes sir!" shouted the private with a salute, before running off to his tent.

As Sephiroth walked back to his tent he reflected on the exchange. He was slightly happy, an unusual feeling, because the private had accepted the mission. Otherwise the general would have had to find _another_ soldier and explain; it would have been time consuming. Along with the fact that the young man would have known too much to be safe. That wouldn't have been too hard to correct though.

He could always have just killed him.

_Note – Not too much to see, sorry for the wordiness of the last section, was necessary to fully explain what was really going on though. Have no fear; Cid will be back in the next chapter, which should be up sometime in the future. When? Well only the birds know that._


	18. Potatoes!

Chapter 18

Potatoes!

            "One engine out, maneuverability cut by 50%, rate of survival: 80 to 1." read the small, onboard computer.

            It had more to say, but a hard pound from my fist ended that. My hand was soon needed in other places though; first to adjust all of the power to Engine 2 and then to try and fly my way out of this mess. The only problem was that I had no clue where my opponent was.

            A sudden hail of bullets from behind changed that though. I soon realized that I didn't stand a chance in this little game of back and forth. The only way I'd win this would be to…

            No, it could never work. Just maybe though…

            Abruptly ending the internal debate I set everything to manual control and knocked the one remaining engine down to minimal power; practically stopping my fighter dead in the air. It all happened so fast that the fighter behind me never had time to get out of his own way. 

            He must have pulled up as hard as he could, but that didn't stop the belly of the craft from slamming into my last good engine. I heard the explosion before it even registered on the computer; and on that cue my arm yanked back the manual ejection lever. A massive "whoosh" filled the air and I shot like a bat outta hell into the sky.

            But then all I could see was black. A barrage of light and air soon flooded in though, as the simulator hatch opened. I stepped out and lit a cigarette in the process. That had been a bit intense, and whoever had been in the other simulator knew what they were doing. Hopefully I'd outsmarted 'em; well of course I did, Cid Highwind doesn't get beaten. The score would tell that though.

            "Lieutenant, your score is up." Announced the young simulator operator.

            I headed over to the small computer monitor set up on an old, folding table.

            "How bad did I beat him?" I asked, exhaling a puff of smoke.

            A look of unease crossed the operator's face.

            "Well, actually lieutenant…"

            "I beat you!" shouted a voice from behind.

            As I spun around I about puked, there stood the Winters kid. _He_ was the one who'd beat me!?

            "Nice maneuver you pulled there at the end, but you ejected too early. Whoever ejects first loses, and you went a split second too soon." explained Winters.

            "Goddamnit." I cursed under my breath.

            "Guess I just got lucky." he went on, trying to calm me down probably.

            At least the kid was smart enough to know this wouldn't be happening again. Like he said, it was pure luck.

            "Wanna get some lunch kid?"

            "If you don't call me kid again, sure."

            "Deal."

            Maybe he wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.

****

            Across the complex Admiral Janus Apollo, commander of the entire Shinra airforce, found himself engaged in a simple game of checkers. His opponent was none other than the ever-disgruntled Commander Nairne. As Nairne often lamented in private, the two old friends never saw each other anymore; yet it seemed Apollo intended to rectify that.

            The two sat across from each other over an upturned barrel, which held the battered checkerboard. The admiral's tent was quite sparse having a large folding table acting as a desk, a few folding, metal chairs and an endless array of charts and documents. The admiral wore his custom scarlet flight suit, while Nairne opted for the standard gray. Once again in contrast, Apollo sported a recently cut flattop, while Nairne favored a tangled mess of hair.

            And oddly enough, although the two men had not talked in quite some time, the tent was silent, save the occasional click of a checker. Apollo was currently winning, having at least two times as many checkers on the board as Nairne. Yet Nairne seemed indifferent, as he'd been towards everything lately.

            "King me please." requested Apollo.

            Nairne obeyed.

            "So how are things in your squadron Jack?" asked Apollo, making his move.

            "Alright." he replied, evading one of the other man's kings.

            "Ah you can not escape me for long, my friend." he reminded, the last two words seeming a bit strained.

            The word "friend' rang around in Nairne's mind. Janus had not called him that for quite some time. And Nairne was still a bit skeptical as to why he had started again.

            With the aid of three other kings, Apollo trapped two of Nairne's checkers in one corner of the board.

            "As I said, there is no escape, your pieces will not both survive."

            Nairne stared at his two stranded pieces for a moment, assessing his situation. The two pieces were a standard checker and a king, yet it was Nairne's only king. Before making his move the man looked up at Apollo.

            "Why did you ask me to come here? You've treated me like shit ever since you got your promotion, why the sudden change Janus?"

            A look of bewilderment overtook Apollo's countenance.

            "Do I need a reason to want to see an old friend Jack?" asked Apollo, obviously covering something.

            "That's total bullshit and you know it!" accused Nairne, standing up from his chair.

            "Sit down Jack, you've got a few drinks in you I'm sure, but that's not the right fuel for a fist fight." admonished Apollo calmly.

            Reluctantly the commander reclaimed his seat.

            "Ok you got me, want a medal? I brought you here for something, but I think it just might interest you." explained the admiral.

            "This better be real good Janus, or you're gonna wish you weren't stuck in this tent with me right now."

            Apollo ignored Nairne's threat.

            "Recently I made contact with this group, and I think they have the answer to this war. They're still open for admission if you want in."

            Nairne didn't even wait a second before he delivered his answer.

            "The only answer to this war is gonna come from the ends of my guns, I don't need anyone to tell me otherwise."

            Apollo shifted slightly, a sign of nervousness.

            "Very well Jack, just thought I'd make the offer. Now I believe it is your move." nodded Apollo towards the board.

            After another second of contemplation Nairne moved his king out in the open. Apollo quickly jumped it without a second thought. But a gap had formed in Apollo's blockade, allowing Nairne's other checker to escape.

            "Why did you do that? It was your only king. Now the rest of your little group is weak and defenseless." observed Apollo.

            "Well Janus, sometimes the leader has to make a sacrifice to benefit the group; rather than thinking only of himself." replied Nairne, defending his move.

            Apollo's mustache twitched in contempt, but he was denied an opportunity to reply. For at that moment an exhausted, young figure stepped into the tent.

            "Admiral Apollo?" he asked between breaths.

            "Yes?"

            "Message for you, its private." he said, looking in Nairne's direction.

            Taking the hint Nairne stood up.

            "Goodbye Janus. Good luck with your command, I do not expect we will be seeing each other under such circumstances again." Nairne said caustically as he exited through the tent flap.

            Apollo tried to ignore the man's remark.

            "Who are you and what is this message?" he queried.

            "Private Delson sir. The message is from Red Tiger, sir."

            Red Tiger? Ah yes, those damn stupid names Sephiroth had come up with.

            Once he realized what was going on, he extended his hand to receive the small message disk. After a quick turn to his desk/table the admiral grabbed his small laptop and put the disk in. With a quick voice confirmation it began loading. Of course technology being what it was he had to wait a good thirty seconds before the message was completely up.

            But when it did Apollo was slightly startled as to its contents. The words were few but the implications were endless. Although it could be fake; Sephiroth had said to test the messenger with a password, and so he did.

            "Password?" he asked, slightly skeptical, not turning away from his laptop.

            "Thunderclap." stated the soldier stoically.

            Good, he was the real thing.

            "Do you have a set of coordinates stored up in your head there somewhere?"

            The private paused for a moment to think and then rattled off a set of coordinates, along with a specific date, in four days.

            "Thank you, now is there anything else you need, or are you done here?" Apollo wondered, somewhat impatiently.

            The soldier surveyed the tent warily, as if looking for something.

            "Well sir, I have run all this way in the past two days and my last canteen is getting close to empty."

            "You can fill it up in the mess tent, goodbye." suggested Apollo dismissively, not even looking up.

            Not wanting to press the rude admiral further, Private Delson quickly left.

            Once the man was gone, Apollo turned back to his small computer. Although the message didn't come out and say it, it definitely implied something. Sephiroth had mentioned a plan a week or so ago and this must be the follow up. He wanted to strike one final blow, have a battle to end all battles, and ultimately crush the Wutaians. 

            But something about that didn't fit right in Apollo's mind. What had they really done to incur Shinra's wrath? Probably nothing, which made Shinra the real bad guys, and the Wutaians the good. Yet he could never convince anyone else of this, he'd be shot for treason. If only the "enemy" could get some kind of edge, some kind of sporting chance in this whole thing.

            Yes…

            With that fleeting though Apollo began to type.

****

            "Shlop!"

            Always a great sound to be coming from your food, or not.

            But it's all we're gonna get, so I might as well deal with it and fill myself up.

            "Hey, how 'bout some more of that protein goo you got there?" I yelled, to the serving cook.

            "How 'bout you take the 'goo' you have and shove it up your ass!" barked back a surly woman who was working over a steamy pot.

            Not wanting to get beat up by the dame, I gave up and grabbed a metal bench at one of the long tables. One look down at the tray of "food" in front of me almost made me gag, ever since we'd moved bases the food had gotten horrible. So I pushed it to the side and sipped some coffee. A minute later the kid, oh wait can't call him that, Hector came and sat down next to me.

            "So what do ya think of that simulator run we took earlier?" asked Hector, pretending like he didn't know what I was gonna say.

            "I'll tell ya what I think of that sim run, I think it can bite me. Any machine that can't sense who the _real_ winner should be and let _them_ win ain't worth my time."

            I could tell the kid wanted to start cracking up, but he held it in. Which was good, cause if he'd laughed I'd have had to wipe that smile off his face with my fist.

            "Highwind can't you just admit that I won fair and square?"

            "No, cause you didn't! That goddamn piece of metal should be able to tell when I eject, and show the score right; with me winning." I said, slamming my tin coffee cup on the table.

            Luckily he didn't have time to say other stupid things and piss me off even more, cause Thanton sat down.

            "Good afternoon Highwind, Winters." he said, while nodding to each of us, and sitting down.

            When he sat down to eat he poked his food with a fork and watched the fork bounce off. So like the rest of us he just pushed it off to the side.

            "So I see you've been doing a lot of sim runs with your group lately Highwind, how's that been goin'?" he asked innocently, not knowing about the run today.

            The kid let a smirk appear on his face, but got rid of it quickly.

            "Don't ask." I said, not wanting to get into the whole thing again.

            "Alright then. Hey do you know when we ship out for the next mission? It's been almost four days or so since the last one, and I'd ask Nairne, but…" he trailed off.

            "But?" asked Hector.

            "What is there not to get? The guy is a psychopath. I said hi to him the other day and he flipped out." I said with a slight yell.

            "Yeah it's like he's been getting worse lately too. He doesn't even attend most of the squad meetings anymore, just has me run them." replied Thanton.

            Not really having much to add, Hector took another look at his food, but gave up again. Suddenly on cue Nairne himself walked in, and gave me an evil glare before heading over to our table.

            "Shit, he's coming over here, I better split. See ya around." I said hastily while getting up.

            Before the creep could make it to our table I headed for the drink station. What I really need right now is a good beer, but of course those aren't _allowed_ here. At the station I found another man already using it, but he let me squeeze in to grab one of the soda taps.

            He didn't wear the standard gray flight suit that most pilots normally had, but instead had on basic army fatigues. I figured he could be someone worth talking to, so I struck up a conversation.

            "Hey, what squad are you from?" I asked, knowing he probably wasn't a pilot.

            "Oh I'm not a pilot. I'm in the Shinra Army, Private Delson, and you are?" he replied, looking up from his canteen newly filled with water.

            "Lieutenant Highwind."

            At this he snapped a quick salute.

            "Sorry sir, was not aware of your rank."

            "Don't worry about it, what are you doing way out here anyway?" I questioned.

            Delson averted his eyes for a moment, unsuccessfully trying to hide something.

            "It's confidential is about all I can tell ya sir. Sure was hell to get here though, boot camp isn't nearly enough training for the real deal. I ran a good twenty miles in the past two days across open, hostile territory." he recounted.

            "Wow that has to suck, when does your plane head back?"

            "Oh I'm not getting any planes, heading right back again. Supposed to report in two days from now. Don't know if I'll make it though, I feel like dying right now."

            "Well good luck soldier, I gotta get goin'." I finished, not even bothering to get a drink.

            When I turned around I found that lunch was goin' full blow, since it was noon and all. So the big old mess tent was packed, which was why I didn't see someone coming right at me from my left. But I saw him soon enough, cause he slammed right into me, knocking me off my balance and almost sending me to the floor. Luckily Cyril, a guy in my group, caught me and shoved me back onto my feet.

            "Sorry Highwind, didn't see ya there." yelled an all too familiar voice over the constant noise of the crowd.

            Azrael freaking Maiden, the last person I wanted to see right now. 

            With a nod of thanks to Cyril I stepped up to the plate.

            "Didn't see me! I was right in front of you!"

            "Well I guess I musta not been payin' attention." he explained with one of his trademark grins.

            This guy was just asking for it. 

            "Maiden I've had it with your shit. You're just too damn cocky, let's take this outside."           

            The grin vanished from his face.

            "I'm sure we can work something out Cid…" he said, a bit worriedly.

            "I'm sure we could, but I don't want to. Get your ass outside."

            By now we'd attracted a bit of a crowd, but they parted quickly to let the two of us out. The door was already open, so we walked right out onto the dirt road. The sun was bright as ever, and the air was dry as a desert. Neither of us were wearing the regular flight suits cause of the heat, so we'd just gone with the standard army clothes today. I pulled my jacket off, leaving some beat up old pants and a white undershirt; Maiden did the same.

            The crowd had followed us out and formed a circle around a small of patch of road we were standing on. A low murmuring could be heard, probably bets being placed. I spotted Hector, Thanton, Cyril and even Nairne in the crowd; apparently they thought this would be quite entertaining.

            "You shouldn't have gotten on my bad side Maiden." I said, for all the crowd to hear.

            "I'm not too worried about it."

            That's it, this jerk is goin' down. 

            Without another thought I lunged at him and delivered a solid punch to his jaw. But he'd been ready, although he ducked a bit too late, but it was enough to weaken my punch. And before I knew what was going on he was up again and punching me right in the nose.

            Fuck!

            Feels like he broke the damn thing, can feel the blood spurting. Oh well, he won't get away with that. Returning his gesture I swung a hard left to pay another visit to his jaw. A loud "thunk" and a growing pain in my fist told me I'd hit right on. His head flew back and for a few seconds he was defenseless.

            I figured it was only fair to give him a chance to get back in the game, so I gave him exactly one second; after that the game was back on. And so taking my chance I went for another punch, but all I hit was air.

The guy was at it again, and like a monkey he danced around me, almost taunting me. So I figured I could let my guard down for a second, cause he seemed to be having fun doing his little dance.

Wrong.

The second I let up he nailed me with the hardest right hook he had to my eye. Colors exploded in front of me for an instant but were fast replaced by a massive throbbing. He ain't gettin' away with this. With a quick breath I closed my eyes and pulled all the strength I had together. Using every last bit of energy in me, my left arm shot out and I connected with Maiden's eye like a rock. His head snapped back at an odd angle and his body spun in the air, hitting the road with a puff of dust.      

That should teach him.

But suddenly something impossible happened, he stood up. No way this could be happening, he should be out cold right now. The guy could probably go on all day like this, but I definitely don't have the energy for it.

"You done yet Maiden?" I yelled across the silent road.

"Not even close." he threatened.

"Yes you are." ordered a new voice from behind me.

I turned around to find Commander Kahne from Dragon squad staring me down.

"This is despicable, a disgrace to the airforce! And Nairne, how could you just let your boys go like this, you easily could have stopped them!" he reprimanded.

Everyone turned to Nairne.

"Why stop 'em? Let 'em get it out of their systems, there's no place for enmity between pilots in the air." Nairne explained.

He had a point, for once. Through this all me and Maiden struggled to keep from passing out, but managed alright.

"Nonetheless it is unacceptable, and if you're not going to deal with it, I will. Come on you two, I think the cooks could use some help peeling potatoes for dinner."

Ah shit.

****

            I've gotten a new appreciation for potatoes, peeling them for three hours will do that to a guy. But I have _not_ gotten used to Azrael Maiden. Being stuck in a small tent full of potatoes with the guy has just made me hate him even more. And having a throbbing, bandaged, bloody nose along with a sore jaw doesn't exactly make things better.

            With that thought I picked up another potato and was about to peel it, when I had a better idea. I tossed it up in the air to get a feel for it, and then with a well-aimed lob I hit Maiden right up the side of the head. It knocked him right off his stool, into a pile of our favorite vegetable. I figured he was exaggerating, but after a few seconds he still hadn't made a move or sound.

            This can't be good.

            So I got up and walked over to see what was up with the guy. He was sprawled on his back, eyes closed, one of them being black from my punch, he was probably unconscious. His chest was still moving though, so he must be all right. I've done my part, no need to stand here and gawk at him. I headed to my stool, back turned. And as I was just about to sit down something nailed me right in the back of the head.

            I spun around to find Maiden still lying on his back, but with eyes wide open, and he was laughing his ass off.

            "Think that's funny?" I yelled.

            He was laughing so hard that he couldn't talk, but he managed a nod of "yes". Since he found this amusing I figured he'd like more; so I picked up two potatoes and pegged him. That just made him laugh even harder. I was too busy being pissed to notice a sack of potatoes come flying towards me and hit me right in the stomach. With a breathless grunt I hurled it back. 

            We went on like this for a good five minutes until we were both too tired to go on. By now he had even me laughing too. And as we sat there I stared him straight in his swollen eye, a serious look on my face.

            "Truce." I said, painfully extending my hand.

            "Truce." he replied, reaching out his own hand and shaking mine.

            Of course we didn't hold hands any longer than necessary, that'd just be weird.

            "Well Maiden, should we get back to these potatoes?"

            "Call me Az."

            "Az it is."

_Note:_ As usual, this one took a while to put together. It doesn't advance the plot a whole lot, but it was necessary to solidify some friendships with Hector and Az. Chapter 19 will be around eventually, with many more plot advances and a bit of Cid. And if you're reading thanks for sticking with it so long, the end is approaching off on the horizon and it should be good. Adios!


	19. Silent Running

Chapter 19

Silent Running

            Things were not going well.

            Unconsciousness had begun to seem appealing. The sound of gravel crunching beneath his booted feet had become the rhythm that kept him going. He considered humming, but he didn't enough air for that, his trek across twenty miles had sucked up ever last breath he had. And stopping was out of the question, his orders prevented it, according to his schedule he was expected at his base in an hour.

            Even though he was proud of himself for his high level of fitness and stamina, he had developed strong cramps in his side that would not go away, no matter what technique he used. He was sweating profusely, but he had stopped noticing it long ago. His uniform had begun to cling to his back, so he'd stripped to an undershirt and army pants, and put the rest in his small backpack. 

            When he got back it would all be worth it though. The message he'd delivered to Admiral Apollo had seemed quite important, surely that merited a promotion. It was about time anyway. Corporal, or even Captain Delson sounded much better than _Private_ Delson. But none of that would ever happen if he didn't make it back to base in time though. So he put on one final burst of speed to make it over a rising hill, and to his surprise, only maybe ten minutes away, lay the camp! He'd hit the home stretch and was sure to make it.

            Things were going well.

**

            "General Sephiroth, we have an unidentified, running man approaching the camp. He appears to be a soldier, either Wutaian or Shinra, no uniform is visible.," reported the watchman over a small private radio next to the general's cot.

            The general groggily brought himself from his slumber and slapped the radio as if it was an alarm clock. Delson must be back, but why the hell did he have to arrive at 0300? At least the watchmen hadn't recognized him, which was a good sign. For if no one knew he'd left, no one would know he'd returned.

            So with one last moment of basking in the solace of sleep he burst out of the trap of sheets and sat up. Always ready Sephiroth wore his usual military uniform, minus the boots. But they weren't far from reach, poised for action they sat on the ground at the foot of his bed. With a quick tie of the laces, he was on his way down the road to the camp entrance.

            Aside from the two men watching the road, all of the soldiers lay somewhat peacefully in their bunks, oblivious to the night's events.

            Perfect.

            He soon found himself at his destination; a small tent with a hole cut in it to look out at the field approaching the camp through. Upon his arrival the two men on duty saluted and further explained the situation.

            "Sir he has not signaled us in any form. It appears that he may be with our army though." reported the first man.

            "Although if he was he would have signaled us by now. All Shinra soldiers know the standard procedure." commented the second soldier on duty.

            They were textbook soldiers, analyzing every possibility, and applying their knowledge to the situation. Yet at the moment Sephiroth found them completely unbearable to be in the presence of. 

            "You are dismissed for the night. I will handle the matter from here." he said sternly.

**

            So close, but yet so far.

            An ancient Terran man had said that, but at the moment he had trouble remembering who.

            Ah well, all that mattered presently was that he was barely half a mile away from the camp; from safety, from water, rest and the ability to _breathe_. He knew that it was army protocol to tie the blue Shinra army issue bandana around your head when approaching a Shinra camp solo, but at the moment that was the last thing he cared about. Like the Greek runner from the Battle of Marathon he would not stop until he stood in front of General Sephiroth himself with the news.

            The joints in his legs ached, his muscles seared with the uncontrollable force of lactic acid, and his bones felt as if they could break at any moment. 

            But still he continued.

            Delson could see the watch tent now, a small light burning inside. He'd manned that post many times, though somehow it seemed so alien, almost dangerous. That did not deviate his mind from the mission though, not when he was so close to the end. As he drew closer the light in the tent grew brighter, more distinct, burning with unbridled fury and will. 

            At that moment his lungs reached their breaking points, and a deep pressure in his chest formed, as if it was ready to explode. So he ignored the lack of air and continued, his legs still pumping through some supernatural force. But suddenly a brand new pain erupted. It was worse than anything he had ever felt, a thousand fold sharper and harsher. It was centered in his left breast, but rapidly sent a wave of horridness through his whole body. The last thing he noticed was an immense feeling of his soul draining out through the hole in his chest; while in reality it was just blood.

            With that the man who was Private Delson ceased to live, as the last drops of life drained from his body. From the sheer momentum it had generated from running, the body continued to move a few steps before crumpling to the ground.

            The light in the tent went out.

**

            Sephiroth quietly put the sniper rifle on the shelf in the watch tent, where it was kept in case of enemy issues. The two guards who had been on watch may have heard the commotion; but they would just assume their great general was dealing with some stinking Wutaian. It was the only way the situation could have gone, the private had known too much. By morning Sephiroth would have disposed of the body, and no one would ever know.

            Just the way he liked it.

****

            He had looked at so many documents through the night that he'd begun to develop a massive headache. He still wore his normal work suit, but he'd abandoned the jacket a few hours ago, and the tie had become loosened another hour after that. His hair had begun to stick up from him agitatedly running his hand through it countless times, and large bags had fully formed under his eyes. 

            Memos, reports, transfers, even requests for a new soda machine, he'd been through it all. And with only a small stack of papers left from Nairne's filing cabinet Rotterdam still had nothing. He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and took a brief respite for a sip of coffee, but he was soon back at it. And after a few more meaningless documents he hit something that mad the whole night worth it. If someone quickly looked at it, they would never imagine such a simple thing had caused so many problems. Of course Rotterdam did not know that either at the moment, but he soon would.

            The document was rather simple in it's request, three of Eclipse's pilots were to be transferred out of the squadron for an indefinite leave due to "combat shock". Yet something was not quite right with that. First off, those three pilots were the same three that had reportedly died in a training accident, the very next day. It was rather hard to that if one wasn't even with the squadron at the time.

            So if they did not die in the training accident, where were they now? People did not disappear easily, especially not three of them. And so he moved to the next document, hoping to find more clues. The next few documents were routine updates and such, but he hit another important one soon.

            This document showed Commander Nairne himself borrowing a freighter and traveling to a small Shinra air installation outside of Lircos, two days after the pilots' transfer. Nairne had returned the next day, but what had he been hauling? Squadron commanders didn't usually ferry around menial cargo for fun.

            It just didn't fit, but although Rotterdam knew it wasn't _right_ he didn't know why it was _wrong._ As he was finishing that thought, his eyes caught a date on the most recent document, April 12. A rather unimportant day, but the next day, April 13, he realized had been much more important. Yes, that day was important for many reasons, mainly one though.

            The Lircos attack.

            He remembered it well, the board meeting was the most memorable of it all though. Every Shinra executive had been present, even that kid, Winters, had been there. He'd given his firsthand account of it all, or something of the sort. As Rotterdam remembered it, Lircos had been razed by some Wutaian fighters, three according to the Winters kid.

            Three…

            No.

            No, it wasn't possible, couldn't have happened.

            Yet it had.

            With a cry of excitement he slapped the polished the table, sending his half finished cup of coffee careening. Old Shinra had really done it this time, he'd planned it out so well, except for one blunder; leaving the files behind. And that had been all Rotterdam had needed to tear it wide open. Using some of Shinra's own pilots to destroy a Shinra town, blaming it on another, weaker, force, and declaring war on them. Pure genius some would say, pure evil Rotterdam said. 

            Now that he finally knew, Rotterdam felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But a new one had taken its place. What to do with the information? He couldn't just waltz up to the president's office and throw this in his face; a legion of Shinra guards would be upon him in a second. No, he had to investigate this further, maybe even enlist Reeve. He would certainly be interested to know the truth about the "training accident" that had destroyed one of his projects. As for Rotterdam, he knew what he had to do. He would not enjoy it in the slightest, but he had to do it if he wanted to strike the strongest blow to Shinra when the time came.

            He was going to Lircos.

****       

               The man walked briskly down the airy tan corridor; his freshly polished boots making barely a sound through the thatched floor, while his uniform chafed against his sides somewhat uncomfortably. Although one thing about the uniform did not chafe, the rank of colonel sloppily sewn onto the chest.

               Hearing _Colonel_ Daegon would never get old.

               Yet there was one job that went with colonel he did not particularly enjoy, training. As he had told Lord Godo upon his promotion, that Wutaian pilots were grossly untrained, it still held true to a degree. Over the past week he had seen drastic improvements though. All the pilots needed was a nudge in the right direction to get them going and they would be unstoppable.

               And suddenly with a blast of sunlight he was on the airfield. Quickly donning his military style sunglasses he regained control over his environment. Control, the one thing necessary to run any kind of unit. He loved it. 

               Standing in front of him was Wutai's entire air force. Being only a few squadrons' worth of men with poorly made uniforms sewn by their wives and mothers they gave off the impression of easy prey. Yet they were the exact opposite, Daegon's tutelage had shaped them into solid pilots, with only a few bugs to be worked out.      

               "Good morning men, ready to fly?"

               "Yes sir!" they shouted enthusiastically. 

               "Excellent, then get to your ships, today you are going to learn one of the last important lessons before you become full fledged pilots."

               As the pilots ran to their fighters, Daegon sauntered over to his. He was most proud of his ship; it had gotten him through every battle in this war so far. He had just recently added a menacing lightning bolt along either side of the cockpit with some paint; his opponents should have something to remember as he shot them down.

               Seeing that some pilots were already in the air he hopped into his fighter, and after a few preflight checks, took off. The sky was clear as could be, only a few puffy clouds off in the distance, perfect day for flying. 

               "Colonel Daegon sir, all units are up here, awaiting orders." reported an anonymous pilot.

               He had told them that they would be learning something important today, yet he really had no idea what.

               "Set weapons to paint projectiles."

               Where he was going next, Daegon had no idea, but at least it was a start.

               "Weapons set."

               What now? Ah yes…

               "Alright, today we are going to hone your skills and accuracy. With the paint projectiles you are going to be targeting your opponents' engines, because they are the most vulnerable spot on the fighter. Now you probably already knew that, and this is sounding quite easy right now. Let me make it harder. If any paint splatters anywhere but the engines then you are disqualified. The first five people that are disqualified have to clean all the ships. Go to it!"

               There, that should keep them occupied for a bit. Within a few minutes it was all over, and Daegon had never had to do barely a thing. He loved his job.

****

Across the Wutaian plains over in the Shinra air force camp, Admiral Apollo was once again leading another boring mission briefing.

            "We have recently learned of a strategically important, yet relatively unprotected Wutaian base that's been keeping a low profile so far. The army wants it gone, since it could attack them from the back when the time for an assault on the main Wutaian forces comes. But our recon shows that the Wutaians haven't realized its importance, since only a very small force is stationed there. So we're only sending in two squads, Eclipse and Phoenix, to take it out." 

            This sounds way too easy.

            "What's the catch sir?" I asked.

            Apollo seemed kind of annoyed.

            "No catch, it will be a quick and easy victory for us." he beamed.

            We were in the normal briefing tent, chairs lined up facing the admiral. 

            "You're always the pessimist Highwind." mumbled Nairne from my right.

            And he's really one to talk.

            "You're telling me that this doesn't sound just a little too good to be true." I retorted, loud enough for everyone to hear.

            "I dunno what the hell it sounds like, but I know one thing. No matter what the odds are, I'm goin' in there and I'm killing as many of those damn Wutes as I can, even if I die trying."

            That received mixed looks of approval and skepticism.

            "Alright it doesn't matter how you _feel _about this mission, it is going to practically decide who wins this war, and so we are going through with it. We launch at 0400, get some rest." concluded Apollo.

            As well all stood up Nairne quickly darted off and I looked over at Apollo, did he really feel so strongly about this? It just didn't feel right. But if even Nairne had no qualms against it then it was probably alright, the guy complained about everything.

            Still…

****

            Back in Wutai the reason for Cid's unease was coming to fruition. High above Wutai Lord Godo stood on his balcony, overlooking the land. He deeply loved the swaying grass, the trickling streams, even the formidable mountain Da Chou; they were all a part of Wutai. 

            Yet it seemed that soon they would all be scarred, tainted, by Shinra occupation. The enemy was continually advancing, whittling down Wutaian forces, and it seemed that there was no end in sight. Off in the distance he could see Colonel Daegon's paint fight going on, good, if the men got more training maybe they would survive a few more missions. But even that was not enough, they needed some hope, some chance, against the Shinra.

            At that very moment, Staniv brought him that chance. With his black robes billowing slightly in the breeze he stepped out onto the balcony.

            "Lord Godo sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but we have just received some interesting news form our 'friend with information'."  
            Ah yes, the new source. Godo had been wondering if their anonymous friend would end up being worth anything.

            "Go on…"

            Staniv shifted slightly on his feet and produced a piece of paper from within the folds of his robes.

            "I have recently learned of a planned Shinra attack on your southern military installation. It is to take place tomorrow, only two fighters squadrons and a small ground force are being sent."

            Godo let out an approving grunt.

            Staniv waited a moment, standing still and watching a crane fly gracefully overhead.

            "I think we should go through with it sir."

            "If the information is telling the truth then this could be very useful. Yet I wonder if it is some sort of trap." said Godo, turning around to face Staniv.

            "Well sir, if it is a trap I do not think it is a very well orchestrated one. This seems like a profitable situation for us."

            For a moment the Wutaian lord stared right into Staniv's eyes, but the other man was not unnerved.

            "Summon Colonel Daegon."

            "Sir do you really think he is necessary to this operation?" asked Staniv quickly, trying to cover his loathing of the fighter pilot.

            Godo saw right through it.

            "Of course he is necessary to the operation, he is the leader of our air force. Ah, General Staniv, it is not good practice in life to hold hate towards others. We should all try and coexist peacefully, although this war is making it rather hard. Besides, you do not even have a good reason." chastised Godo with a smirk.

            Having nothing to say, the other man stared down at his boots as if he found them quite fascinating. Within five minutes Staniv had Daegon up in Lord Godo's office, high above the rest of the city, rivaling even the height of the large pagoda.

            Godo occupied a small chair at the desk he never used, surrounded by all kinds of tapestries and peaceful fountains. Staniv had taken a tall stool with some sort of dragon carved into the legs, while Daegon was left standing. He had been informed of the impending mission, and had whole-heartedly approved.

            "Sir this mission is the perfect chance to give my new pilots some real combat experience. Soon our forces could be invincible!" he shouted, stomping a foot into the thatched floor.

            "Calm down Colonel, you will get your mission, but air support alone will not win this. General Staniv, dig up a company of foot soldiers somewhere, I don't care who it is, and send them to reinforce the base as soon as possible. Colonel Daegon, do what you will with your ships, I only request one thing."

            "Sir?"

            "Win this battle. God knows we need it."

****

            A number of miles away, tucked into a somewhat hidden rock outcropping, lay a small city of tents. Unlike standard Shinra procedure, there was no watch posted, no attempt to camouflage the tents, no attempt to even stay awake. But these tents did not belong to Shinra. All of the soldiers lay in their bunks, sleeping lazily, and all of them wore Wutaian uniforms. 

            After a devastating battle, a once proud battalion had been reduced to a ragged company. The men did plan to make contact with their headquarters eventually, but for the moment they were content with sleeping right through the day. 

            No one was really in charge of the whole mess, but if one asked, the soldiers would direct you to the last tent in the line, which held the remnants of the once painted word "COMMAND" on the outside. The tent's occupant did not really acknowledge the fact that he was the leader of all 160 some odd men camped out with him, but somewhere in his mind he knew.

            Major Podran was the laziest of all the men, he slept virtually the whole day and through the night. He was still getting over the loss of his former commander at the skirmish with the tanks in the village, and the burden of leadership. But he knew that if he ordered his men to hit Midgar tomorrow they would, but he had no such intentions. In fact he had no intentions at all. 

            He had his own tent, and had welcomed the space, although he had nothing to put in it. His real possessions were kept on his person at all times; a utility knife his dad had given him when he was younger, and a picture of his girlfriend. Although the latter was somewhat of a lost cause, he'd written to her many times, yet received no response. Ah well, life went on, albeit slowly.

            But at that very moment, sometime around noon, when he was considering maybe turning over onto his left side, something broke his reticence. A call came over the company's radio unit that he'd stationed in his tent. He figured that he could just ignore it, but the static didn't stop, and the voice persisted.

            "Wutaian command to Major Podran, this is General Staniv."

            Hmm, general. Might be important.

            With a slight shift he rolled out of his hammock and onto the floor. The radio persisted for a minute while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Eventually he brought his arm up to hit the reply button on the radio.

            "Major Podran here." he slurred lethargically.

            "Finally, Major where's your radioman?" demanded Staniv, irritated.

            "Um, he's on vacation."

            "Anyhow. What state is your company in?"

            Podran refrained from saying "sleep" and thought about a better answer.

            "In a couple of days we could be ready." he replied candidly.

            "How about a couple of hours?"

            Shit!

            "That works too." replied Podran, quite awake now.

            Staniv briefly explained the mission, and Podran confirmed his troop's involvement, with one last comment.

            "You know I don't even think I have the right rank to lead a company." he said, desperately trying to get out of this mission.

            "Neither do I, but you're going to anyway."

            With a curt goodbye Podran burst out of his tent to rouse the company.

            Not a soul was out, every single one of the soldiers was sleeping, or just being lazy. Going to each tent would take too long, but it was quiet enough that they might all hear him…

            He cleared his throat, took in a large breath, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

            "All right boys get your asses in gear, we move out in two hours, whether you're ready or not!"

Note – Sorry for the delay with the chapter, once again I just kind of got stuck in a couple of sections, and put it aside in favor of other things. Chapter 20 is close to halfway done, but I don't know when it will be up, since school is winding up and all. Thanks for reading though, and stick with it, the grand conclusion is nearing.


	20. Luck

Chapter 20

Luck

            For Wutaian Corporal Dokin, life consisted of sleeping, staring out the window, and the occasional trip to the soda machine. He ran Chamuri Base with ten other men, chamuri meaning cheetah in English. But their base shared none of the qualities of a cheetah, unless it was some sort of deranged, lame, old cheetah. In all it's years, and countless wars, the base had seen no action whatsoever. That would soon change.

****

            This morning I took some extra quality time with my coffee and grits; they could be the last meal I ever had. Hate to be so morbid, but this damn mission of Apollo's just didn't feel right. Since it was one of those lovely "mission mornings" we were all up and reenergizing for the day. Even Nairne had hit the cafeteria this morning for some coffee; we all figure he kicked it up with some vodka though.

            As I broke the tough film over the grits with my spoon, for the first bite of gritty goodness, Azrael came over and sat down across from me.

            "Mornin'." he said between sips of coffee.

            "Same to you. Hey you ready for today?" I asked, trying to get an idea of where he was at with the mission. 

            He already knew what I though about it, but he indulged me.

            "Damn right I'm ready. Haven't flown for a good three days now, gettin' rusty."

            The look on my face still stayed grim.

            "Oh come on Cid, what the hell could go wrong?"

            Just then the launch sirens went off.

            "Ten minutes until mission launch. Eclipse and Phoenix squadrons report to airfield…" blared the intercom.

            Looks like we're about to find out.

****

            "When this is all over we can go back to camp and get some good, solid sleep. Until then we're gonna march!" shouted Major Podran over the steady, yet un-rhythmic clomp of boots.

            Podran's company had been marching non-stop since they'd gotten their orders from General Staniv, but they still hadn't reached Chamuri base. The major had been told little about the mission, and the soldiers even less; all they knew was that Chamuri could not fall.

            With only a hundred and sixty men, the forces would be spread rather thin; but the men felt up to the challenge. After losing their commander they needed some reassurance that normal life would still go on, and they would still fight just the same. Just then a scout came running breathlessly back to the major.

            "Base is just over that hill sir, right in the middle of a big old valley." he panted.

            "Very good. Alright boys, one last push and we're there. I want a flat out run over that hill or else we'll lock you out of the building when the Shinra get here!"

            Not wanting to be stuck in that predicament, the Wutaians swept onto the field like a tornado, not one of them stopped until they reached Chamuri Base. A bewildered Corporal Dokin came rushing out to investigate the newcomers, but all he received was a handshake from Podran before the company swarmed into the base.

****

            Maiten's Mixed Platoon.

            It sounded more like a circus than a Shinra military force, but it was no circus. There was no place for fooling around in the military. Colonel Maiten was as military as you could get, and he was damn proud of it.

            Over the years he'd acquired all kinds of friends in the different military groups; and one day he'd decided to put together a platoon, roughly forty men, out of all of them. That had been thirty years ago, back in the fourth world war, or maybe the fifth, he lost count. And in those thirty years "The Mixed" had won quite a few battles, today was looking like it would be another victory.

            As the tanks and assorted soldiers made their way over the Wutaian plains, Maiten bumped along in the lead tank. His fingers brushed the controls for the special top mounted machine gun, but did not hit the trigger. It was customary for him to fire the first shot in every battle, for luck of course.

            He had a feeling that they would need no luck today though.

****

            As the darkness of early morning began to release its hold on Wutai, Colonel Daegon sat in a simple lawn chair on the airfield. He liked to be there first thing to greet the pilots before any mission. All of the fighters had been scrubbed clean from the paint exercise the other day, and some even sparkled. Within the next twenty minutes the airfield would be empty, and the Wutaian pilots would be on their way to Chamuri Base for a little rumble with their Shinra friends.

            He couldn't wait.

****

            Corporal Dokin had all he could do to keep himself from just screaming. 

            Five minutes ago he had been contentedly thumbing through an old Playboy, and now he was in the middle of full-scale chaos.

            The minute Podran had walked in the door he'd begun assessing the situation. The building mainly consisted of three stories of solid concrete, and endless banks of floor to ceiling windows. The major immediately ordered that all windows be shot out and placed men through the building in sniping positions.

            Corporal Dokin had spent months cleaning those windows.

            A small group of demolitions troops were sent out to place a few mines outside the perimeter of the building, a little something to slow down any assaults. The rest of the men, including Corporal Dokin and his fellow Cheetah Base troops, were stationed in defensive positions throughout the area, and just waited.

            This all took amazingly about ten minutes to accomplish, Podran's men were efficient. At the end the only person who had no place to go was Major Podran himself. So, taking advantage of the free time, he curled up in a corner and took a quick nap. His rest would not last for long.

****

            The techs had gotten the ships all ready the night before, so we took off quickly. I'd caught a glimpse of Shera, but she was too busy with last minute checks to notice me, need to hook up with her sometime.

            "Gonna be about five minutes till we get there kids, relax for a minute. Then we can get this thing over with." grumbled Nairne over the squad communicator frequency.

            Taking his advice I put the fighter on autopilot, zoned out for a few minutes, and thought about happy things. Like ice cream, and getting promoted…

            Suddenly a chill ran up my spine and I abruptly looked up. As I flew over a large declivity, a valley appeared. In the middle of it sat the ugliest building I had ever seen.

            "Get ready, we're here. Do whatever you have to do, but when it's all over that building better be gone." said Nairne.

            What the hell is this? A free for all? Had the man totally lost his mind?

            "Three Flight, form up on me." I ordered angrily.

            I'm not gonna let this mission turn into feeding time at the zoo. Time to bring a little sense to the table.

****

            As the platoon thundered across the plain Colonel Maiten was receiving constant reports from his scouts. Apparently the base was right in the middle of a valley, prime target.

            "Colonel, the base is just over the hill, awaiting orders."  
            The colonel rubbed his chin in thought for a moment.

            "Go over that hill full speed and charge the base until I say otherwise." he said confidently.

            While his tank rolled down the hill, his hand moved towards the trigger for his mounted gun, but he never finished that motion. From outside the tank he heard a loud scream and a set of wet thuds as bullets pounded into the dewy grass around him.

            So much for taking the first shot.     

            "Fire!" he yelled over everything else.

            His men quickly obeyed, their very lives at stake. Maiten's hand returned to the trigger and squeezed. His bullets joined the rest in pelting the enemy position. Somewhere very close he heard, and felt an explosion. Damn it, they had anti-tank rockets too.

            "Somebody kill that guy with those goddamn missiles!" he screamed, losing his normally calm demeanor.

            They were gonna need all the luck in the world to pull this one off.

****

            Daegon was quite pleased.

            The launch had gone off very smoothly, and the three Wutaian squadrons were on their way to the valley. This day would be one to remember, a day to proudly tell future generations about. What satisfied Daegon the most though, was that the damn Shinra would realized, right before they died, that they'd been sold out. And in the last seconds of their lives, their minds would be racing, questioning.

            Who could it have been, a squad mate, the cook, the guy who seemed odd the other day in the cafeteria…?

            The only thing that got Daegon was that he didn't know who the traitor was either. Sooner or later he would find out, it would drive him crazy otherwise.

            "Sir, we have two enemy squadrons ahead." shouted a worried squad leader.

            Oh good.

            "Sir, thirty seconds until we're in range…in range now, no hostile action yet."

            Daegon smiled slightly.

            "Engage."

**

            It looks like this mission might actually turn out all right. Nairne's flight just went in for the first strafing run on the building, and there's still no sign of any Wutes. A Shinra platoon even showed up, things had started goin' our way.

            Or not.

            The Wute base just opened up on the platoon, and they're gettin' torn apart.

            That can't be good.

            Suddenly there was an explosion behind me, sending a wave of heat and high-pressure air to rock my ship off course a little.

            "What the hell was that?!" I yelled, kind of freaked out.

            "Holy, fucking…" someone said, I think it was Hector, sounding very shocked.

            "Cyril's gone Cid." reported Az gravely.

            I moved sharply off course to run right into a whole mess of Wutes. I fired into the swarm of 'em to make it look like I knew what the hell to do, and pulled up hard.

            "Nine and Twelve, form up on me. All fighters, we've got a shit load of hostiles over here!" I shouted.

            Az swooped over towards me, but Hector had some issues. Two flights worth of Wutes were on him tight. Before I could do anything, Az was in there crackin' skulls. He got a couple of 'em, but that still left a good six guys to deal with. Soon Az and Hector were both trapped, and it didn't look good. Without another thought I dove right into the middle of it.

**

            Major Podran's nap hadn't lasted long. The second the Shinra platoon had peeked over the hill, all hell had broken loose. But it seemed like they were driving the enemy back, even the tanks. That reminded him, those soldiers manning the rockets deserved a pat on the back, or something of the sort. 

            He made his way across the building to go and find one of the two soldiers manning the rockets. The company had originally had about six rocket units, but the rest had been lost in the village skirmish. As he approached the first of the two, a huge section of the ceiling collapsed right in front of him. Once the dust cleared, the major realized that the man he'd wanted to talk to had been crushed, along with the rocket unit. Well, there was still one more around somewhere. 

            Dodging bullets and flying bits of concrete, Podran finally saw the sole rocket unit and the soldier manning it. He cautiously approached, not wanting to be crushed under any more loose ceilings. He arrived unharmed, and watched the soldier in front of him shoot off another rocket into the enemy platoon.

            "Good work soldier, you're really making short work of those tanks!" Podran shouted.

            The soldier looked up quickly.

            "Thanks major, I…"  
            He was cut off as a bullet passed cleanly through his right eye, and thudded into the concrete wall behind him.

            "Shit!" screamed Podran, as he wiped some of the man's blood from his cheek.

            He quickly got out of the way before the Shinra sniper could take him out too. With the tanks relatively out of harm, the Shinra forces could advance easily now, once again not good.

            "Increase fire, we can't let that platoon get down here!" he ordered over the company's communicator frequency.

            What fun being in the army was.

**

            "Colonel Maiten sir, we seem to have eliminated all enemy anti-tank rockets."

            Hmm.

            "Very good, continue to concentrate your fire on the key structural points on that base, with any luck we can bring the thing down around them."

            As Maiten surveyed the scene outside through a small window, he could see that his men were doing well; but they were taking too many casualties just standing in one place.

            "Mixed, if you want to win this, there's only one way to do it. Reload, take a breath, and advance at all costs on that base. We're not goin' home with some consolation prize, we're taking the whole goddamn thing."

            Within seconds the Mixed were charging the base like a herd of elephants, and taking very few casualties. Further back in the assault, the remaining tanks continued to plug shells into the Wutaian base.

            With a little luck, the whole thing might work.

**

            Only a short distance away, Commander Nairne could see Chamuri Base quite clearly. In only the past couple of minutes the valley had turned into total hell, and it was all giving him a large headache. Or maybe that was the vodka, who the hell cared.

            "Two Flight's run is complete, your turn commander." said Lieutenant Thanton over the communicator.

            Without bothering to signal his wingman, Nairne dropped down to a lower altitude and switched over to rockets. After a few seconds of mental targeting, he fired off a rocket and pulled up out of the way. His shot brought down a larger chunk of the roof, and probably killed a few Wute grunts. But he wanted some real kills, he wanted to watch some stupid Wute get disintegrated in the explosion that he set off with his bullets.

            He quickly found a wayward enemy fighter, and shot it down easily. It wasn't enough though, he needed more, some sort of challenge.

            Then he saw it, barreling right towards him. A sleek, polished Wutaian fighter, with a brilliant white lightning bolt painted on either side of the cockpit.

            Finally, a challenge.

**

            Bullets flew past me left and right, but most missed. With a hard roll to the left I moved closer to Az and Hector, and managed to avoid some of our pesky attackers. One of the Wutes flew right in front of me, very bad flight etiquette; so I reprimanded him with a few bullets through the fuel tanks. As he careened down to the ground, his ship exploded into so much shrapnel.

            Out of the corner of my eye I saw Az score a quick kill, he was turnin' out to be pretty good. Below me I could see Hector was somewhat screwed, but as I dove down to help him, he managed to get the kill himself. Now it's even; three of us, three of them.

            Suddenly I found myself in the middle of a Wute sandwich. Two of 'em were just flying with me, one on either side, don't really know why. With a polite nod to each, I pulled a tight arc up, killing one on the way back down. The other ship swooped over to bug Az, leaving me all alone. Off in the distance I could see a whole mess of fighters, Shinra and Wutaian. It looked like there was more of the Wutaian black though, not a good sign.

            "Hey Highwind get over here, I can't shake this guy!" yelled Az.

            I immediately shot over there, not going to let another squad mate die cause I didn't get there in time. When I got over, I saw that Az definitely had a follower, the guy was on him like a magnet. No matter how bad he tried, Az couldn't shake him, and it looked like the guy was closing in.

            I saw only one way to do it, and it'd only work if Az had gained a level of maturity higher than a seven year old, which wasn't likely. Switching to rockets, which we'd gotten especially for this mission, I began to aim.

            "Az roll left!" I yelled.

            Without a second of hesitation, he rolled neatly left, and I fired my rocket at the Wute. It hit right in an engine port, causing a good-sized explosion. Gritting my teeth, I flew through it, and came out just a bit singed.

            "Thanks Cid, I owe you one." he said gratefully.

            "No problem."

            Hector flew over to join the two of us, and we headed for the big battle. We'd taken on twice as many Wutes as us, and come out without a scratch; not bad. But wait, we'd only gotten five kills total in that last little fight, where was the other guy?

            "Wute on you Cid!" yelled Hector.

            Never mind.

            I quickly looked back over my shoulder, and sure enough, there he was. As a batch of bullets flew past me, I turned back to flying.

            "Can't get him, he's following me on every damn move!"

            Ten seconds later I heard a lot of breaking sounds and turned around to see the other fighter dropping to the ground. A cry of triumph from Az told me he was the one to thank.

            "Thanks Az, now I'd say we're even."

            "Say so, now let's go and take out a few more Wutes before the sun rises."

            Good plan.

**

            Colonel Daegon had never felt so exhilarated, it seemed that the twin lightning bolts on his ship had given him an enormous, new amount of power. And to top it off, he'd found a worthy opponent!

            He came charging in at the grizzled, old Shinra fighter, but pulled up before he took any damage. With a quick inverted loop, the Shinra fighter was on him, targeting his exposed engines. As the other man fired, Daegon pulled the ship up out of his reach.

            "Nice try." murmured Daegon to himself.

            But suddenly the Shinra fighter was back, and riddling the right side of Daegon's fighter with bullets. He dropped low and then pulled left, assessing the damage. Nothing major, although a lightning bolt had pretty much been destroyed, since that whole section of the ship was full of bullet holes.

            The Shinra man would pay for that.

            Not wasting anymore time, Daegon flew up behind the Shinra fighter, and fired a rocket. In reality the rocket flew in at a speed faster than most fighters could fly; but to Daegon it seemed like hours were passing as he watched. The moment of impact soon came though, but not quite as it had been intended. At the last second the Shinra fighter juked out of the way, thinking he could avoid Daegon's wrath.

            Not quite.

            The cap of the rocket clipped the tip of the other man's right wing, and exploded.

**

            Corporal Dokin was finally doing what real Wutaian soldiers did, fight. Stopping for a second to reload his gun, the man wiped some sweat and concrete dust from his brow. The Shinra tanks had begun to slowly destroy the base, systematically taking out support beams and girders. At least half the casualties had been from falling chunks of concrete. Although Podran's platoon had only lost about forty plus men so far, it seemed like the Shinra forces were winning.

            The tanks had begun a somewhat slow, but formidable push down the hill to the base. As for the actual Shinra ground soldiers, Wutaian snipers had picked most of them off, but a few still remained. One in particular had been evading Dokin's best efforts to take him out, and so he'd made it his mission to kill the bastard. Every time Dokin fired, the enemy soldier ducked behind a tank though. Oh well, he could not hide forever.

            But after a few more minutes, Dokin had not accomplished his mission. If only he could get this one kill, the whole battle would be worth it. He slowly sank into his own little zone, focusing only on the other man. His gun's muzzle moved as the enemy soldier did, and finally, when the whole world had stopped around him, Dokin fired.

            The Shinra soldier's helmet made a loud ping as a bullet hit, but it had been weakened already in the battle, and so Dokin's bullet went right through. With an intense spray of blood, the man hit the ground.

            Victory.

**

            Colonel Maiten had all he could to stop himself from getting up, and sticking his head out the tank's hatch. He wanted to know how the battle was going first hand; he wanted to actually _be_ in the battle. Maybe another day, but not this one; the Wutes would knock his head into pieces the second he popped out.

            From what he could tell, the Shinra tanks certainly were advancing, but an increasing number of Shinra foot soldiers' bodies had been strewn across the ground. Bloodied and mangled, those men had been torn apart by the Wutaian gunners. They hadn't even been given a chance to fight, the worst way to go.

            He vowed to avenge them, to take that damned base. The tanks had managed to do some good damage to it, but it still stood. To win this battle, the Shinra forces would have to get right up to the base, and drop a couple of shells right down it's throat.

            Yet he wondered if they would ever make it there.

**

            In all his life, Commander Nairne had never been so scared. He had danced well with his Wutaian opponent; but when that rocket had shown up on his scanners, he'd had enough.

            As the rocket drew closer, he realized that maybe it was all for the better. There was nothing left for him in this life. All of his family was dead, he was fighting a war against a pretty much innocent country, and commanding a bunch of smart asses. But even with all this, life still was appealing. This war would probably be over soon, maybe he could get a new job, find a wife…

            And then it hit.

            The ship jarred violently, jamming him into his now taut flight harness His cockpit window shattered, ushering in a wave of orange flame, singing his face and hair. He looked out to see that his right wing was gone, and then felt the ship lurch waywardly into a dive. He blinked away some smoke, coughed and tried to rub his eyes.

            But he was not dead.

            Suddenly life was the most beautiful thing in the world, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep it. 

            He wildly pulled on the flight stick, trying to regain control of his rapidly dropping ship. The ship would not divert from it's present course though, all engines had been fried it seemed. Yet he remained in the ship, any other pilot would have ejected by now. Not by their choice though, all fighters automatically ejected their pilots when critical damage had been sustained. He'd refused to get the system installed though, he'd be the one to decide when to eject, not some computer.

            And now he was deciding to eject, there was no other way. His hand frantically reached for the manual ejection lever, and yanked back on it roughly. But nothing happened, it would not budge, no matter how hard he tried.

            He was trapped.

            His trusted manual lever was so outdated that it had broken, it had run its course, and then jammed permanently. Sort of like him, he was outdated, stubborn, and finally he'd jammed. 

            So as the once great Commander Jack Nairne completed his last thoughts, his weathered old fighter plummeted to the ground, trailing a stream of thick, black smoke behind it. And as the battle raged on all around, it hit the ground, with a loud cacophony of metal being rent out of place, and bones breaking; completely crumpling in the nose.

            A few seconds later it exploded, leaving only a few random pieces of metal, and a burnt mark on the grass.

**

            Me, Az and Hector had gotten over to the main battle as quick as we could to join the fun; but it was anything but fun.

            We'd lost about a squadron's worth between Phoenix and Eclipse, and so had the Wutes, but they'd brought three squads for this party. Winning the battle had pretty much gone out the window for us, survival was our main interest. What really gets me is that it sure as hell seems like the Wutes knew we were gonna drop by.

            Luckily Thanton was still around, cause Nairne seemed to have disappeared. We'd both agreed that the bombing runs had to stop, we were losing too many fighters, and it seemed like the tanks could handle the base.

            "Commander Nairne, do you copy?" asked Commander Arkanian of Phoenix over the general frequency.

            "I dunno, I think he fell asleep or somethin'." I joked.

            That got a few laughs, but one cry of dismay.

            "I just saw an Eclipse fighter go down!" yelled some random pilot.

            Well that sucks, but it's no surprise.

            "You're right, hey it looks like Nairne's!"

            No fucking way. As much as I hate the guy, he didn't deserve to die.

            I dodged a Wute fighter with lightning bolts suddenly, narrowly avoiding some more bullets. Well this looks like it could be fun. I followed the fighter down through the whole mess, trying to pop his engines, but failing. This guy's good, I'll give him that. All of a sudden more Wutes were on my tail though, and I had to abandon the chase. I'll find him again, some day.

            I managed to slip out from my three pursuers with a little work, and some help from Hector; even got a kill. But within a minute we'd lost at least three more fighters, and soon enough we'd all be dead.

            "Let's get the fuck out of here!" I yelled to no one in particular.

            Never thought I'd say that.

            "I'll second that." piped in Az, helpfully.

            The communicator was silent for a second, letting me take in the overwhelming sounds of battle. Bullets flying, metal being torn apart, random things exploding.

            "Commander Arkanian, I think they're right. We need to pull out." suggested Thanton.

            While they deliberated, I took down another Wute, great only twenty four our so to go…

            "All Shinra fighters, form up with your commander or flight leader and retreat. This just isn't our day." ordered Arkanian.

            To whatever god that wants to listen, thank you.

**

            Major Podran had never enjoyed being awake before as much as he was at the moment. When you were awake you could be productive; do things like win battles. Although he hadn't won the battle yet, but the Shinra fighters were retreating, and that had to mean something.

            The Shinra tanks on the other hand, were still rolling along steadily, looming ever closer to the base. The Wutaians had successfully managed to kill every single foot soldier, except for a few who'd hopped in tanks. And so the valley had quieted a bit, most of the Wutaian soldiers having stopped uselessly pelting the tanks. They needed more than bullets to win this battle. Without any rocket units left, they were in a bit of a dilemma.

            With any luck the ignorant Shinra would do something wrong.

**

            Colonel Maiten, surprisingly enough, was in his own dilemma. Even if the tanks did make it to the base, what would they do then? The men very well couldn't just hop out and say "Hi". The Wutes would slaughter them in two seconds.

            Suddenly though, a more pressing issue presented itself. Right in front of him, a tank shot up in the air a few meters, flames spouting from the center. As he stared at the blackened, smoking tank, it hit him.

            Those dirty little Wutes had mines!

            "All tanks halt!"

            "Colonel, with all due respect, we're going to be destroyed if we just sit here." said his driver.

            Maiten shot him a glare and continued.

            "That tank just hit a mine, and I'm sure there's more where that came from, stay on your toes."

            There was really nothing else they could do, if they got out to dig the things up they'd be shot for sure. The only way was to keep going, and hope someone made it.

            "Mixed, advance, someone has to have control of this base when the day's over, and it might as well be us!"

**

            Colonel Daegon had heard Commander Arkanian order the retreat over the open frequency, but it didn't bother him much. The Shinra fighters had sustained massive losses, and that was enough for him. They'd come in with twenty-four fighters, and were leaving with eight, oh wait seven.

            "All Wutaian fighters, let them go. I repeat, let them go."

            Someone had to go back and tell the other Shinra scum what happened.

            A few disappointed groans came over the communicator.

            "We'll get them next time, don't worry. Now we need to wrap _this_ battle up though. Drop some rockets down on those tanks if you've got any left, that should finish them off."

            They had this one in the bag, everything was under control; beautiful.

**

            Major Podran didn't quite share Daegon's optimism, but he did feel a sense of impending victory.

            Their well-placed mines had cut the already small number of tanks in half, leaving about five. But those five were still coming, and were still very dangerous. Even though it was pretty much ineffective, Podran still had a handful of men firing at the approaching enemy, the silence would be too eerie otherwise. Everyone else was either just waiting for something to happen, or frantically trying to find a solution

            The actions of the former soon paid off though, for something did happen. That something came in the form of fighter rockets hailing the enemy tanks. Some tanks survived a couple rockets, but after a good three or four they exploded. Within thirty seconds the five had been reduced to one, one that somehow had managed to avoid any fatal damage.

            Very odd.

**

            At this point, Colonel Maiten knew that this battle could not be swung back to Shinra's advantage. With only two Shinra soldiers, being himself and his driver; against a good hundred and twenty plus Wutaians, they stood no chance.

            But to retreat would be pointless. After losing all of those brave men and women, he could not face their families. He had not asked the driver what he thought, but it was safe to assume he felt the same, most any Shinra soldier would. The building loomed close now, a motley mix of rubble, concrete and steel. It was all because of that damn building that the events of the morning had transpired, not a very worthy cause.

            Suddenly Maiten felt the tank shake as it crashed over a pile of rubble, and stalled, right in the middle of the ground floor of the base. Swarms of Wutaian soldiers converged on the tank, but Maiten still remained calm. He grimly loaded his pistol and looked at the driver.

            "Fire a shell, if you can."

            While the driver fumbled with the control panel, Maiten briefly thought of his family. They would be proud, hopefully, of his sacrifice.

            The tank rocked back sharply as the last shell they had shot out, taking out a few massive concrete pillars. So without another thought, Maiten gave the driver a nod, and they both vaulted out of the tank.

            "Surrender now and…" began an anxious Wutaian.

            Maiten stopped him with a bullet, and kept on going. The driver did the same, even tossing out a small hand grenade. But the Wutaian soldiers weren't stupid, it only took them a few seconds to get their guns up.

            Never stopping, running on pure adrenaline, the two Shinra men fought viciously until they were literally torn apart by bullets.

            Luck had not been with them today.

****

            Later that morning, Major Podran stood atop Chamuri Base, looking out across the valley.   

            In only a half hour or so, the once pristine valley had been turned into a graveyard. The mangled wreckage of crashed fighters, blackened husks of Shinra tanks, bullet riddles bodies of soldiers and huge chunks of concrete lay in every direction.

            Wutaian soldiers would begin the cleanup, but it would be a long and arduous process. Burying bodies, whether they were enemy or ally, was never easy. But no matter the carnage, they had won, and that was all that mattered at the end of the day. And above all, the Wutaians finally had a victory in this god-forsaken war, there was hope after all.

            Off in the distance, the waking, reddish sun began to rise over the lip of the valley.

_Note – As usual, I know it took a while to get this up, but you're all used to that by now ;). I'd been looking forward to writing this chapter for a while, and I think it came out pretty good, and although it was mostly action it did accomplish a few important plot points. Next chapter will be around sometime, got finals and junk though so that might slow me down, thanks for reading!_


	21. Hungry

Chapter 21

Hungry

            "History admires the wise, but it elevates the brave." – Edmund Morris

The battered, brown, old Shinra freighter flew low across the desolate landscape. The pilot did not know anything except the coordinates that he was supposed to take his cargo to; as long as he got paid he could care less. The freighter and its pilot had seen many years, both being rough and a bit unreliable. As they flew along an engine briefly died, taking the ship into a drop on the right, jostling its cargo. But the pilot quickly corrected it, nothing new.

            For the freighter's cargo this was all quite new though, and a bit unpleasant. Vice President Rotterdam and a hired bodyguard sat precariously in the cargo hold, trying not to get squished against the walls by any wayward boxes. Rotterdam's discovery a few days ago had driven him into a new level of fervor. Now that he knew the truth, he just had to prove it, and somehow he knew that Lircos was the place to start.

            So the very next day after his late night of poring over Nairne's files, he'd quietly found a pilot and a bodyguard; both with no love for Shinra, and no reason to betray him. He'd also left a message for Reeve, telling him the whole story, and leaving it up to him whether or not he wanted to help. As he quickly looked over at the bodyguard, he was startled to see that the man was staring right at him. The man's name was Emilio, no last name that anyone knew of. He was a former Shinra soldier, who'd been discharged for accidentally paralyzing another man in a fistfight. Whether or not it had really been accidental was a fact that no one knew. 

            Off in the distance a ghost town sat, silent and lonely. Only a few mauled buildings stood now as a testament to a previous way of life for a group of common people. 

Just another byproduct of war. 

            "Approaching landing coordinates, hold on tight." admonished the pilot, although both of the passengers already were holding on as tight as possible.

            It seemed as if the ship almost accelerated as the ever-closer scenery came towards them. Suddenly a jarring thud resounded throughout the area as a cloud of dust rose up.

            They had arrived.  
****

            It had all happened so fast.

            The battle, the losses, the retreat. Damn, the losses. To be slaughtered so easily, to have to limp out in the most shameful way; it just wasn't right.

            And now we were holding a funeral, a _mass_ funeral for seventeen of our own, _seventeen_. The worst part was, we hadn't recovered any of the bodies. Those fucking Wutes are probably doing some voodoo ritual to 'em now.

            For lack of a better place, we were having the funeral outside on the main road. A small podium had been set up for Apollo to say his spiel from, along with a few folding chairs, not many were needed with our sharp drop in headcount. We'd all been ordered to wear our good uniforms, which usually wasn't too fun, but today nobody was complaining. Everyone in the camp; cooks, techs, custodians, were all present. Somehow they'd all known at least one of the casualties.

            Personally I'd only known two of them well; Cyril and Nairne. Cyril had only been around for a couple of weeks; but he'd been in my wing, and that was enough. Nairne had been around even before this whole mess, and sure he was an asshole, but he'd been a half way decent guy deep down.

            As I slowly made my way to a chair I saw Hector and gave him a nod, now wasn't a time for conversation. I grabbed a chair in the back, so I could get out quick once this mess was through. After a few minutes of some more arrivals, Apollo entered from the edge of the road.

            He wore his usual red uniform, spotless of course since he never did any work. His mustache had been trimmed just for the occasion, and I could almost detect some sort of perverse smirk on his face. He didn't seem like he had any notes prepared, guess he's just gonna wing it. While the last murmurs died in the crowd, he reached the podium and cleared his throat.

            "Good morning."

            Great way to start a eulogy, there's nothin' good about this morning buddy.

            "It is a tragic event that brings us together today. The battle over Chamuri Base took seventeen of our bravest, most valiant pilots. And it may seem that their deaths are in vain, for the area still remains in enemy hands. But our friends would not like us to think of it that way; instead we must realize that they made a difference by killing Wutaian fighters. And every fighter we shoot down brings us one step closer to victory."

            What a load of bullshit. Did he copy that from the _'Official Book Of Meaningless_ _Crap To Say At Funerals'_ or something?

            Ten minutes later he'd listed the name of every dead pilot, spouted some more meaningful crap, recited a poem and informed us that there were pictures of all the dead people in the mess tent that we could pay our respects to. 

            Thank you Reverend Apollo.

            Just as I thought this was all wrapping up, he threw us a curve ball.

            "I have one more announcement to make, it could be considered a somewhat bittersweet promotion. As you all know, Commander Nairne of Eclipse is dead, and thus Eclipse needs new leadership. After reviewing many factors, I have decided that…"

            Congratulations Thanton.

            "Lieutenant Highwind is going to lead Eclipse Squadron. We will deal with the formalities later Highwind. We are now taking a day of leave to mourn, thank you."

            Ah shit.

            _Commander_ Highwind? I was damn happy with lieutenant. This just isn't right. First off, Thanton deserves this more than me, and Nairne had to fucking die for me to get this. 

            I just sat in my chair for a good five minutes and stared into the dark sky, some idiot had decided that two in the morning was a good time for a funeral. When I was done everyone had left, and Apollo had taken off in his personal fighter. 

            I need to get really drunk.

****

            Over the expansive plains, and a few mountains, quite a different gathering was taking place. The streets of Wutai City were filled with people, young and old. A few were mourning, but on some level everyone was celebrating. 

            Though it was very early in the morning, the city was still beautiful with its many ponds and natural features. Lamps had been strung along every building, along with colorful banners and decorations. All soldiers in the city were present, including pilots. The center of it all was the main building of the city, where all of the government and military functions were carried out. The pagoda sat in the background, a place of solitude, not for mass celebration. 

            And like Apollo, Godo found himself speaking in front of a large crowd, the entire population of Wutai actually, trying to come up with something inspiring to say. He wore his usual plain robes and was flanked on either side by General Staniv and Colonel Daegon.

            "Citizens of Wutai, we have finally had a victory in this war! The battle at Chamuri Base should be the first in a series of victories. Thanks to Colonel Daegon and his pilots, as well as Major Podran who is still at the battlefield, we can once again hold pride in the Wutaian name. Our country is in good hands on the battlefield while this war rages. We will take back and defend what is ours! Now the day has just been born, take it to rejoice and celebrate!" he exclaimed.

            The crowd erupted in cheers with the uplifting speech.

            Lord Godo made his way down into the crowd; he liked being with them in times like this. He regretted having elaborated so much in the speech though; he knew that this very well could just be a lucky break.

            The war was far from won.

**

            Five levels below the main streets of Wutai, a low moan of pain echoed through the prison hall as a man woke up. He had instinctively curled up in a ball and huddled in the corner of his cell. After a few seconds his eyes acclimated to the dim light, and his muscles slowly relaxed. As he cautiously sat up, the pain hit him like a sack of bricks. He felt bruises all over his body, along with a few broken bones. 

            A quick look at his surroundings showed that he had been moved back to his original cell; a slimy, sparse, depressing little place. No food had been left, no painkillers, no new clothes, and no bandages. When he'd been captured he'd only been a pilot in the air force for a day or so, it just wasn't right.

            But they were convinced he was holding back, convinced enough to beat him senseless to get it out of him. He would probably die in here, after enough blows to the head he would one day never open his eyes again. Escape was close to impossible, especially in his physical condition. It had to stop, had to end.

            Suddenly a quiet shuffle brought his eyes up to the door; where a tall Wutaian man with a practical set of black robes stood. He'd seen him before, when he'd first gotten here. The name eluded him at the moment though.

            "I am Staniv, we've met once before Mr. Clifton. I have little time, but I need to ask you one question. It had been bothering me ever since you get here." he whispered, eyes darting around furtively.

            "If I answer, can I have some food?" asked Lennie, desperately hoping to gain something out of this.

            "Um, yes you can get some food. My only question is, how long had you been in your air force before you were captured?"

            Lennie considered not answering for a moment, but decided it was a fairly harmless question.

            "A little more than a day."

            Staniv's eyes sunk in dismay, Lennie could not tell why.

            "Then it is true, you do know nothing, you have no reason to be here." he murmured to himself.

            At this Lennie's eyes lit up like a puppy at a homeless shelter when prospective owners came in, would this man help him?

            "I must go, good day." he briefly before turning around and walking quickly down the corridor.

            No, no help today.

****

            After only five minutes in the ruins of Lircos, Rotterdam had developed a new level of hatred for Shinra. In the weeks since the attack, bodies had begun to decay, buildings had fallen down, and the stench of death was in full force. None of these people had done anything to harm Shinra, they'd just been the unlucky ones whose town had gotten drawn out of some sick lottery.

            It was unbearably hot out, but they were in the middle of nowhere Rotterdam reminded himself. He soon discarded his suit jacket, while his bodyguard Emilio seemed content in his thick, leather clothes. 

            Rotterdam didn't know quite what he was looking for, there had to be something though. He knew what had happened, but he had no solid proof. Shinra could say it was all just speculation on his part, and he'd have nothing. He'd brought along a tape recorder in case anyone was still around; it had been said that there were no survivors, but that could just be another Shinra lie.

            For another good fifteen minutes they cautiously searched the town, observing everything they could. Rotterdam had begun to wonder if there was anything new to be found, when Emilio drew his gun and ushered the vice president to some cover.

            "See something?" asked Rotterdam in a whisper.

            The other man nodded quickly.

            "Should we leave, or…?"

            He was shushed by Emilio.

            Having given up talking, Rotterdam looked around to see that they were in an old general store. Most of the roof had collapsed though, leaving only a small space for them to hide in. A brief look through a broken window showed a dusty, deserted town of ruins; no movement at all. But he was wrong, for a few seconds later, Emilio fired a shot from his small pistol, and a body fell into the street.

            Giving Rotterdam a "stay here" hand signal, Emilio quickly ran out to retrieve the body. A minute later he was back, and a slowly stirring person lay on the floor between them. The body belonged to a middle aged man, bruised and battered. He had dirty, dark black hair, and a scruffy collection of facial hair. He wore the tattered remains of a Shinra flight suit and had what looked like a broken leg from the gross angle it was positioned at. It looked like Emilio's shot had gone through the man's left shoulder, where a large amount of blood was now emanating from. From a bright red mark on the man's head it was apparent that Emilio had knocked him out with the butt of his pistol to be safe; he was almost awake now though.

            Oddly enough the pilot remained entirely calm as he looked up at the two Shinra men. He had the look in his eyes of someone who could care less what your intentions were, as long as you were human and could provide some social interaction.

            "Who are you?" he asked flatly.

            Emilio gave a nod to Rotterdam, designating him the official answer man.

            "We're with Shinra, but…"

            Wrong thing to say.

            The man suddenly broke into a spasm of anger; kicking, thrashing, yelling.

            "Shinra! You bastards put me here, quick recon mission my ass. I always wanted to get my hands on one of you suits, now I got my chance." he said angrily, almost hungrily.

            Within seconds the man was too strong for Emilio's grasp, even with his one bad leg and ruined shoulder. He'd produced a jagged piece of thin metal, probably off his fighter, from his flight suit and wielded it clumsily, eyeing Emilio.

            "You corporate fucks thought you could just use us for your will, thought we'd never ask any questions. Thought we'd be _dead_ by now. Might as well be after that freighter came and took us out. Got Tom right off, practically had Walt. He was all broken, I got hungry a couple days ago and finished the job. It might be barbaric, but when you're out here it's the only way to go. Now once I kill you, I'll be set for a while, can gain some strength and get back to Midgar…" growled the pilot, pure fury in his eyes.

            Suddenly he lunged at Emilio, catching him by surprise amazingly. The pilot managed to pierce the skin over Emilio's stomach, but before he could get too deep the bodyguard had brought out his gun and pointed it at the man's forehead.

            "Drop it now." he said, referring to the make shift knife.

            Rotterdam stood in a corner, hoping that the man would drop the knife, things would be so much easier. Instead the man made as if he was going to put the piece of metal down; but as he became bent over at the waist he rammed Emilio in the gut and knocked him backwards. Emilio was only off balance for a moment, but that was just enough time for the pilot to drive the knife up under the man's rib cage.

            "Shit." whispered Rotterdam under his breath.

            After surveying his kill for a moment, and retrieving his knife, the man turned to face the vice president.

            "Look, I'm the wrong guy to take your anger out on. I didn't even know about your mission. I'm against Shinra too, that's why I'm here, I…" 

            "Save it for Satan, he'll hear your pleas while you burn in hell."

            With that the pilot charged Rotterdam, who reflexively fled out into the road. As the pilot kept coming he suddenly slowed, and then dropped to the ground. Rotterdam saw a small hole in the pilot's back, which was the exit point for a stream of blood that ran down his flight suit to pool up in the dirt road.

            What the…

            "Mr. Rotterdam."

            He looked up a bit to see a woman with six Shinra soldiers standing atop a building. The woman wore red clothing and held a small pistol, probably silenced.

            "Ms. Scarlet, how are you today?" he asked just to irk her.

            "Mr. Rotterdam I have no time for pleasantries. I am here to tell you that this is your final warning. Meddle in business that isn't yours anymore and I will make your life miserable. The situation involving that pilot is none of your concern. Now take those bodies with you, and go back to Midgar. And remember, we are watching you wherever you may be; there is no escape." she threatened acidly.

            Her work done, Scarlet turned to leave, surrounded by her compliment of soldiers. A few minutes later, a brand new Shinra freighter lifted off and accelerated towards Midgar. For a few minutes Rotterdam just stood there, shocked, in the middle of a ruined town, a dead body on the ground to his side, sand blowing around him.

            Once he'd snapped back to reality he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his pilot.

            Definitely time to go home.

****

            A ways across the Wutaian plains, where sand changed to grass, two men stood stoically, not a word passing between them. One man bore a clean-cut head of brown hair, which seemed unmoved by the wind, while the other's long, white hair was blowing around a bit. General Sephiroth had been waiting a good five minutes for Admiral Apollo to arrive, and all he could do was realize that Apollo was just that much more of a fool to not be on time for such an important meeting.

            A transport had dropped its passengers, including Sephiroth off in the middle of the large area and departed. A bulky transport was much easier to spot than two, soon to be three men. As a few more minutes passed, Sephiroth's Turk bodyguard that he'd gotten for this meeting pulled up the sleeve of his blue jacket to glance at his watch. The general had barely moved himself, content with waiting in his green, Shinra uniform.

            When Apollo's small, custom fighter appeared over the horizon, he was ten minutes late. Once he'd executed a quick landing, the admiral hopped out of the fighter after stowing away his flight gear. He wore his usual red uniform, and walked with a hint of superiority in his step over to the two men. He stopped a wary three or four feet away from Sephiroth, and gave the Turk a look suggesting that the meeting was private.

            "Hello General Sephiroth. I do apologize for being late, our funeral proceedings ran a bit later than expected."

            Sephiroth decided that he hated the man even more in person.

            "Your lateness is not as important as the plan we are here to discuss. Operation Thunderclap requires the air force's cooperation." Sephiroth said, emotionless, though he spoke of the deaths of countless Wutaian people and the end to a war.

            "That shouldn't be too hard to do, our schedule is fairly open. And ending the war is definitely the highest priority." Apollo quipped with a fake chuckle.

            Sephiroth was getting the impression that the other man was hiding something.

            "There are some details to be worked out still though…" Apollo continued.

            Sephiroth just nodded.

            "Like command of the operation, I think we have different people in mind."

            "Oh?"

            "Yes, for example; you aren't quite the man for the job." Apollo said, an intense glare in his eyes as he discreetly reached for a pocket in his flight suit.

            The Turk had of course been listening the whole, and this drew his attention.

            "Not quite fit, so do you recommend I be removed from command?" asked Sephiroth curiously.

            "Exactly." replied Apollo, as he brought a small pistol up.

            Before the Turk could do a thing, two bullets had entered his chest. Apollo quickly turned to Sephiroth, who still just stood there, staring at the man. But within seconds of the Turk's body collapsing to the ground, a bullet shot through Apollo's left eye and went out the back of his head.

            Sephiroth stepped back just enough to avoid the spray of blood; and moved his head to see a second navy blue clad figure emerge from the tall grass, a thin sniper rifle in his hands and no hair on his head.

            Though Apollo's face had been ruined, his trademark handlebar mustache still remained. It was the last surviving, distinguishing feature of a once great admiral; though marred by his own blood.

            With a nod to Rude, Sephiroth turned to call a transport.

            A legend had died for supporting a cause he so truly believed in, but to many it was seen as the wrong cause. To many it was seen as treason, and treason was never looked upon well. And that was how Apollo would forever be remembered, as a traitor, not as a war hero, but as a dirty lover of the enemy.

            The sun had yet to even hint at coming up, and with that the great sun king really was dead, for the sun no longer deemed it necessary to shine in his presence.

_Note –_ _Don't really know why this took so long, guess I'm just lazy. Some of it was kind of tough/boring to write so maybe that's why I avoided it. Chapter 23 is as much of a mystery to me as it is to all of you, since I only mapped out up through this chapter. But don't worry it will come in due time. _


	22. Badang!

Chapter 22

Missions

            Huh?

            Damn, that funeral was no fun; good thing they invented vodka. Good thing Nairne had some too; cause there ain't any other alcohol in this place. Wonder where this place is? Oh yeah, Nairne's tent, where I got the vodka. He won't be needin' it anymore anyway. The bottle was about half empty when I got it, Nairne musta known I was comin' so he drank a bunch. Hope he doesn't catch me.

            Shit, he's dead. Him and Lennie, both gone; all cause those fucking Wutes. When I stand up I'm gonna kill 'em all. I'll walk in there with my bottle, and hit 'em real hard, every single one of 'em.

            Badang!

            I oughta practice hittin' 'em though, don't wanna miss. I'll just pick the bottle up and go swoosh with it. Shit. I broke the bottle on something on the other side of the tent, hope it was a Wute. My fingers musta let go or something. Ya know, it's weird, they call 'em fingers, but I've never seen em fing. Saw a cat fing once though. Gotta get some Wutes though, oughta get up. One, two, up! Still not up, that's weird. Maybe I'll use my legs this time; left leg, right leg, push.

            Whoa.

            "Stop moving the floor!" I yelled.

            Bastards, movin' my floor. When I catch the lil' assholes who did that…

            I'll do it later, gotta go to the Wute place now. Lost my bottle though, I'll go borrow one from Az. If those people would stop moving the floor, I could get out of this tent a lot faster. How do I get out? They trapped me!

            Nevermind, found the tent flap.

            Ow! Too bright, turn off the lights, come on. 

            Hey there's Hector, walkin' away from Nairne's tent. He was the one movin' the floor! I oughta beat the shit out of him, no, wait; Wutes, gotta hit them. Need a bottle from Az still though. The bunk tent for our squad should be just down the road to the left, or maybe to the right; I'll go straight. Damn it! Hector put a pole in my way, that little shit, Guess I gotta go left now, hope Az is down there.

            Took me about ten minutes, but I'm at our tent now; Az is hiding though.

            "Hey, Highwind, you don't look so good," said Az from across the road.

            They switched bunks tents on me!

            "Az! I need a bottle…"

            "Looks like you've had enough bottles for one day, man," he pointed out, now walking over to me.

            "No! I need one to go get the Wutes. If you ain't got one I'll go ask someone else!" I yelled indignantly.

            Az reached out his arm to try and stop me, but I didn't let him.

            Badang!

            Kicked him good in the leg, an' hit him in the stomach. Trying to stop me, some nerve.

            No one else is out, must all be busy "mourning". More like having sex, those people and their goddamn sex.

            Gotta find a bottle and some Wutes.

            "Cid, come back man," gasped Az from behind me.

            Nice try, he's just tricking me so I'll come back and do the laundry. I don't wanna do no laundry.

            I started to run faster to get away from Az. I was goin' at like high speed when suddenly I ran into somebody. A girl I think, with brown hair. The impact knocked me to the ground, and I just lay there. Don't really wanna get up anymore.

            "Whoa, sorry 'bout him, you ok?" asked Az, I think.

            The girl coughed.

            "It's alright, I'm fine. I'm not so sure that this guy is though. Come on, help me pick him up."    

            A few seconds later, Az leaned down to grab me. No way pal. 

I thrashed around, tryin' to hit him. Guess I missed.

            "No! I gotta get the Wutes!"

            "Not today, bud. Now I'm sorry for what I'm gonna do, but you're too riled up to handle," he said.

            A second later his fist came toward my eye, shit that hurt!

            And then…

****

            The minute that Reeve had gotten Rotterdam's message he'd wanted to walk right into President Shinra's office and stab him through the heart. Not that he hadn't wanted to do this for a long time anyway though.

            Of course Reeve couldn't lay a hand on the president, but he _could_ still help Rotterdam. The more information the vice-president had when he exposed Shinra, the better. And so Reeve had decided to play his part by looking further into the "unfortunate training accident" that had destroyed one of his development projects. There had to be some evidence left, because the building had been destroyed one way or another. If not by three fighters, then by something else.

            He decided to log on to the Shinra network on his computer and do some searching. Being in charge of Urban Development gave him access to all sorts of building supplies and personnel transfer lists. Hopefully one would show some indication of the building's sabotage. It would take something pretty good to take out a ten-story building, though at least a quarter of it had just been framework. The police had found a few different chunks of what had originally been three Shinra fighters in the wreckage, and so it seemed that was nothing more to it. Reeve may have been new to his high executive position, but he was not new to Shinra, or to life; there was always more to it.

            A very high concentration of explosives would be needed to take the entire building down. Though Shinra construction workers did this all the time, destroying an old building to make room for a new one. With a few appropriate keywords and well thought out clicks, Reeve had a list of all the explosives of building destroying magnitude used in the past six months. He knew from reading it in some report or another the amount of explosives needed per square foot to successfully bring down a structure. And so for the next hour he went down through the list, checking the math along with the project for each entry.

            He made note of any irregularities and got through the whole list without finding any order that could have been for his building project. It was all perfectly normal, though there were a large amount of irregularities that he'd noticed. In most cases it was just a larger amount of explosives being taken than necessary, the mistake of some supply requisitioning clerk no doubt.

            It could really have been three fighters that had destroyed the building, but something about that didn't feel quite right. First off, how do three veteran pilots all crash into the same building? Secondly, no camera had caught a single picture or video recording of the accident. Midgar was a technologically advanced enough city to have had a camera somewhere in the vicinity. And it _was_ possible that fighter parts and wreckage could have been planted at the site. 

            With all these thoughts milling about in his head, Reeve sat back in his comfortable leather chair in his office and just thought. It was close enough to the end of the work day that no one would bother him; all they wanted to do at this point was go home. There was still a good sized stack of paperwork on his overly large desk, but this was far more important.

            Over the course of a good fifteen or twenty minutes, Reeve slowly began to drift into a light sleep. He had come up with and then quickly dismissed many answers, very tiring work. He reached the point of overall relaxation, and he would have drifted off within a minute had one final thought not passed through his head. His eyes shot open as he snapped up and stared at his paper on which he'd written down all of the irregularities for a moment before rapidly punching numbers into his calculator.

            For a few minutes he alternated between scribbling down sets of numbers and feeding more into the adding machine. When he was done he had added up all of the extra explosives taken out and calculated the amount that would have been needed to destroy the building; they were almost exactly equal. Shinra had just blown up the building themselves and scattered some old fighter parts around the demolition site, seemingly simple, but no one had figured it out until now.

            Reeve smiled; the smile of a hunter that had finally caught its prey, the smile of someone who'd just solved a complex riddle. He'd helped Rotterdam in his own way and brought the mystery one step closer to its end.

            Much more important than paperwork.

****

            Shit.

            Y'know those headaches that make everything from the front of your eyeballs to the back of your head hurt? I've got one of them.

            Ow, it hurts to think.

            It feels like I'm laying down and sweating like some cow in heat. Ooh a breeze… Wait a minute where are my pants and jacket? I can almost hear someone; I bet they took 'em. Or maybe that's just my brain throbbing, trying to explode out through my ears or something. I'd ask the person who they were, but I think if I open my mouth I might puke; sure tastes like it. I could always just open my eyes…

            Bad idea.

            That's the second bad idea in maybe thirty seconds. First I tried to think; now I had to go and open my eyes. All I can see is a close, wooden ceiling; I've been captured by the Wutes! They've put me in some sort of voodoo box! Damn it, Highwind, snap out of it.

            "Damn it, Highwind, snap out of it."

            Hey, who said that?

            Might as well ask 'em.

            "Who said that?" I asked, not moving a muscle but the ones in my neck and head.

            Whoa, I opened my mouth and didn't puke.

            "Bluuggh!" 

            Nevermind.

            With the sudden thrust of muscles I could feel my body better, and realized that my head was turned to the left, probably aiming off into some bucket.

            "Damn, man, I didn't think you had anything left to puke up," commented a voice somewhere in front of me.

            Az?

            I decided to sit up and see for myself what was going on; big mistake again. It was like I lit the fuse to some fucked up fireworks display inside my skull. I started to fall back down but an arm caught me and held me up. After an uncontrollable eyelid flickering session I looked up to sure enough see Az cautiously holding my sweat drenched form. I looked down to find that I was only wearing boxers and a white undershirt, classy. A quick look around showed my wooden prison to just be the bottom bunk in a series of bunk beds. The tent looked like any other bunk tent in the base. It definitely wasn't mine though.

            "Easy there, bud," cautioned Az as he picked up my puke bucket with one hand and placed it as far away as possible without letting go of me.

            "Hey, Az?" I asked groggily.

            "What?"

            "Did I get drunk or something?"

            "Now that's gotta be the question of the day right there. I'm outta here, Cid. Shera will help ya out. And yes, you sure as hell got drunk," he said with a snort of laughter.

            With that, Az let me go and walked out of the tent. Wait, did he say Shera?

            "Cid, right? I think we met in the cafeteria at the old base," asked a quiet voice.

            I looked across the tent to see Shera for the time since I'd woken up. She wore green pants and a white T-Shirt with her long brown hair done up in a bun on the back of her head.

            Real nice, she barely remembers my name. I mean yeah it was a while ago, but I sure as hell remember her.

            "Yeah, it's Cid. Wait, did I run into you earlier?" I wondered out loud, suddenly remembering more.

            "Yeah you did. Don't worry though, I'm fine. Azrael and me brought you in here to try and let you sleep off your hangover. We didn't want you to get in trouble for breaking the no alcohol rule or anything. I figured no one would find you here in the tech's bunks. I'm pretty sure all the other techs are at the mess tent, there's sort of a party going on down there," she explained from her relaxed sitting position on another bunk.

            Party?

            "I appreciate you helpin' me and all, but I think I'll be fine now. A lil' sleep and a bucket always does the trick," I thanked her kind of crudely.

            Real nice thing to talk about with a girl, Cid.

            "No, you should stay here for just a little longer. Puking takes a lot of strength out of you. Let me get you some water," she offered, getting up and walking barefooted over to a small water cooler.

            At the thought of cooling down I realized that I still had just boxers and my undershirt on. I don't know her that well; probly oughta be wearing something a little better than my old light blue boxers with no button. You really gotta be careful going buttonless, very risky.

            "So, what have you been up to since we talked a while back?" she asked from the water cooler.

            Well, definitely not piloting or anything.

            "Oh ya know, same old stuff, flying and all," I answered stupidly.

            I scanned the tent for my pants while Shera was still getting me water. They were on a bunk near the bathroom. I pulled myself together and stumbled over to retrieve them. She turned when I was about halfway across the floor and giggled.

            "Sorry, I kinda forgot about your pants. Hope you don't think I was trying to hide them or anything," she smiled.

            If only I hadn't drank that vodka this morning, we could be playing hide the pants. But I wouldn't be here if I hadn't drunkenly run into her, so…

            "It's all set, I'm gonna use your bathroom if that's alright."

            "Sure, I'll leave your water out here."

            Before I said or thought anymore stupid things I quickly retreated to the bathroom and shut the door. The bathroom wasn't all that big, but it had everything I needed. After relieving myself I jumped in one of the small shower stalls. I just stood there for a good five minutes, letting the ice cold water run all around me and not doing a damn thing. It felt nice, sort of woke me up. I used some shower water to rinse out my mouth, getting rid of the puke residue. Once I was a little bit more awake I went through the soap routine, including some girly shampoo that smelled like a "lush strawberry grove" according to the bottle. 

            When I got out I realized that I didn't have a towel, so I just used my pants to try and dry off and put me on along with my boxers and undershirt. I was feelin' pretty clean, except for my mouth, still tasted horrible. With a little searching though I found some toothpaste and used a favorite technique of mine. I squeezed a big gob into my mouth and used my tongue as the toothbrush, after a quick rinse with water I was set.

            Before heading out I gave myself one final check in the mirror. I didn't look half bad, a quick shave would be nice, but ya can't have everything. Suddenly I noticed that my right eye was kind red and a bit sore. Somehow I'd missed that in the overall feel of tiredness. Then it all came back bit by bit. I vaguely remember running into Shera, hard enough to knock her down. Az had been there too, he'd said sorry for somethin… Oh yeah, he'd punched me, the bastard.

            Whatever, more important things lay in the next room. I barely knew her, but she was sending out some pretty strong vibes. 

            Shut up, Highwind, you don't know the first thing about women. Never had a serious girlfriend for more than a couple of months, and even those didn't mean anything. It was their fault though, I didn't do anything wrong; just didn't do anything right according to them. This is a clean start though; aside from knocking her down we're on good terms.

            Before I thought myself to death I swung open the door and returned to the tent. Shera had grabbed a bunk again and half lay on top of the uncomfortable, standard issue brown army blanket and white sheets, back against the wall. My small plastic cup of water sat on a trunk near the door, so I grabbed to make it look like I was doin' something.

            I started sort of pacing while drinking my water in gulps, real slick. The whole time she just looked at me out of the corner of her eye all funny. It couldn't have gone like that for more than thirty seconds but it seemed like forever. Finally she broke the silence.

            "Why don't you come sit down over here?" she asked with a slight smile.

            Why? Cause I'll probly trip on my way over or somethin'. Hangovers and nervousness don't mix too good. But I went over anyway, time to start being all, what's that word, suave?

            I went over and sat on the edge of her bed and just kinda looked at her. She was definitely pretty in her own way, and from the look in her eyes it seemed like she was thinkin' the same thing about me. I don't mean that she's thinkin' I'm pretty or anything, but that I look good and stuff. If she called me pretty I'd be outta here so quick…

            "It's a shame we haven't gotten to talk to till now," I said awkwardly.

            "Yeah, yeah it is. You seem like a real nice guy, from the couple times I've met you and stuff. Well you know what I mean," she finished quickly, she seemed sort of nervous too.

            Then my head went blank and the headache came back with force. Some time to get a damn headache. C'mon, Highwind, think of somethin' suave to say. 

Yeah that's it. I saw it in a movie once and it worked for _that_ guy.

            Nice and suave.

            "I know one way we could get to know each other a little better," I suggested boldly.

            "What's that?" she asked, though I bet she knew what I was goin' for.

            I leaned towards her and looked into her eyes until I got scared and closed them. As I moved in, I realized something, this really isn't gonna help me get to know her any better. But hey, whatever. Just before our lips came together I wondered if our noses would hit, but they didn't.  

            We only kissed for a second before we both kinda pulled away at the same time. When I looked at her she had this weird expression on her face, couldn't tell what it was. Shit, hope I didn't mess things up. Then all of the sudden she broke out laughing.

            "Your hair smells like strawberries," she giggled.

            Well that's nice…

****

            The first thing Rotterdam did when he returned to his flat in Midgar was to take a long, hot shower. As the dirt, sweat and blood flowed off of him he tried to get his encounter in Lircos out of his head. But he could not make them leave, no matter how hard he tried. The horror of his bodyguard being stabbed, the desperate hunger of the crazed pilot, they wouldn't stop. He could not keep the haunting words of the pilot from repeating, "Save it for Satan. He'll hear your pleas while you burn in hell." He did not even necessarily believe in any religion, so why had those words rattled him so much? 

            It was because the man had associated him with the men in Shinra who had sentenced him and his two fellow pilots to die. Rotterdam hated being a part of Shinra, but it was the only way he could find justice. But the man had really thought he was just another heartless man in a suit from evil Shinra. He had been trying to help him though; he'd wanted so much to help him. The man hadn't let him though, he'd had to run out and get killed. If only he would have talked to Rotterdam. He would have understood, he would have helped him fight Shinra. Yet the vehement hatred that had brewed inside the man had come out in his words. He had so strongly wished Rotterdam to die, and he had believe that he was a truly evil person.

            No one wanted that.

            Once he got out of his nicely tiled shower he put on a warm, blue cloth robe and went into the kitchen. Maybe a drink could dull the thoughts; some hard whiskey would do the trick. But was dulling the thoughts really the right thing to do? Maybe he needed to actually think them over to sort things out. He ended up choosing dulling them for the time being though. So he downed two shot glasses worth right there at a counter of his spacious kitchen before taking a third glass into the living room. 

He could have had his butler be doing all of this, but he'd given him the night off. That was the last thing he needed, someone else to ask what was wrong or if they could help. He hated it when people asked him what was wrong. Because most of the time they could do nothing about whatever his problems were, but they tried to. They'd pry and ask questions to try and help, but it didn't help, it just made him think about it more. 

That was why he could never stand his family, though both of his parents were dead now and he had been an only child. He'd never married either, and that was fine with him. It wasn't that he didn't like people, he just didn't like the thought of getting so close to them. To tell them such personal things just felt wrong, they were his personal feelings, not to be shared. And so he just kept a sort of monotone appearance, barely showing any emotion. The only emotion he showed was anger, normally anger at Shinra. He had tried to block everything else out, it had become the goal of his life. 

            When he reached the living room he sunk into his black leather couch and turned on the TV. He needed something to take his mind off of the madness and gore he'd experienced. How Shinra could drive a man so crazy as to be a cannibal was just another example of their horrendous power. They had no idea how much power they had, if they did they would be unstoppable. They could ruin entire lives at a whim, conquer other countries for fun, it was insane. He found a cheap porno on one of the many Shinra owned satellite channels and watched it for a while. 

            He was barely paying attention to it, but somehow it drew his mind in. It was so brainless, and that's just what he needed. He needed to just not think. Within minutes the third shot glass was empty and on its side in the deep carpet. The vice president knew he had a mission to do, a plot to expose, but he wasn't in the mood for that. Instead he let himself slump down into the comfortable clutches of the couch and fell asleep.

****

            I ended up spending the afternoon with Shera in the tech tent until it got late and I headed back to my own tent before the rest of the techs came back from the party. That one kiss was the only thing we did, the rest of the time we just kind of talked. I fell asleep pretty quick back at my bunk tent, which was good 'cause we had to report for duty at 0600 sharp the next morning. I made it to the briefing tent right on time and everything too, but somethin' weird happened; Apollo never showed up.

            We decided to wait for a half hour before doin' anything about it. That came and went so we called up a couple of his different numbers and checked his tent with no luck. Someone also found out that his ship was still gone from the other day. Slippery bastard. So me and the other squad leaders, Kahne and Arkanian, decided to have the flight leaders take their groups through some simulator runs and call it a day.

            A day went by and there was still no sign of him, so we put a call into Shinra H.Q. at Midgar to see if they knew anything. In a way I was kinda hopin' that he wasn't comin' back. Not that I want him dead or anything but he always was a creepy bastard. It turned out that the Midgar people didn't know what was up either, but they said that Palmer, the head of aeronautics or some shit, would be out by late afternoon. I'd never liked the guy much, only seen him a couple times, but he still had somethin' about him that was weird. He just never struck me as being too bright. 

            Sure enough a nice new Shinra transport landed by the fighters around dinnertime. Two Shinra soldiers were the first to step out, 'cause he was in so much danger out here and all. Palmer himself came out next, looked about the same as the last time I saw him. He was short and portly, with graying hair and beady eyes. He had on this real expensive looking suit, trying to seem important or something I guess. It was just me, Kahne, and Arkanian out there waiting for him, but he still tried to walk up all important like, though he was going way too fast and almost tripped once. What a fake bastard.

            "Hello, I don't know any of you," he greeted.

            Guess this guy wasn't in people skills school the day they taught 'em how to greet someone.

            "Commander Highwind from Eclipse," I said, shaking his hand firmly.

            "Oh Eclipse, didn't the commander die?"

            Wow, this guy is something else.

            "Yeah, Nairne." I helped him out with the name.

            Having lost all interest in me he moved on with an outstretched hand and a cheesy smile.

            "Commander Arkanian, I'm with Phoenix Squad," she said politely.

            I hadn't seen much of her until recently so I'd never paid much attention to her. She was average height and skinny with fairly short blond hair in a ponytail. From the stories I'd heard and the times I'd seen her in battle she seemed like one crazy pilot.

            After a quick, somewhat stupid response Palmer moved on.

            "Commander Kahne of Dragon Squadron, sir," he said a little too formally to be addressing Palmer.

            Kahne was built kind of like Palmer, but he was a little taller and not quite as fat looking. He sported a brown crew cut and seemed like he was one of those guys that were always nervous about somethin'.

            With our lovely meet and greet done we went into Apollo's tent and sat down in the few metal chairs there were. Palmer had a little trouble with sitting still at first, but he managed to calm down for a bit. He didn't seem to know what to say, and neither did the other two, so I started things off.

            "So no one knows where is?"

            "That's what they told me. They said something about needing a new admiral too," answered Palmer as he fidgeted, furiously trying to stay sitting.

            Wow big surprise, sounds like someone coached him on what to say. He's probly pretty proud of himself for remembering too, stupid bastard.

            "I'll tell you right now that I don't want the job. I'd rather fly the missions than sit in here and plan 'em," piped in Arkanian.

            "Yeah, same here," I said.

            Palmer just kind of sat there for a minute, poking his stomach from what it looked like, until he realized he was supposed to say something.

            "Well then I guess you're it, since they don't wanna be," he said, pointing to Kahne.

            Kahne's nervous look got even worse.

            "Me? Well I guess I can do it. Is that your final decision sir?"

            Once again Palmer was not paying attention at all, too busy kicking his legs up and down.

            "I'd say yeah," I said for Palmer.

            "So don't you need to sign any paperwork or anything…?" asked Arkanian.

            "Probably."

            Someone kill him now, please.

            "Well I'll go find the papers in your ship and have you sign them," said Kahne as he got up.

            "You might want to go with him," I hinted to Palmer.

            He looked up all of the sudden like he just realized we were here.

            "Yeah I'll go with him. Bye," he said, almost bouncing out of his chair.

            How some of these guys get to be so high up in freaking Shinra I'll never know. 

****

            Major Podran sat at an old metal desk he'd been given at Chamuri Base and looked over a large, detailed map. The map showed both Wutai and Shinra forces in the Da Chou Mountain region. The focus was on one particular area though, the joint Wutaian materia processing and military facility in the center of a large valley in the mountains. The forces had been at a stalemate for weeks now. Shinra troops held every pass into the valley, and were rumored to even be inside and on top of the mountains. Wutaian soldiers were in abundance protecting the valley and facility, but they looked like they were outnumbered. 

            It seemed that the Shinra army intended to hold the valley under siege until the Wutaians starved, but it was not working. For the Wutaians had built an expansive network of transport tunnels with railed cars underground that connected to the city of Wutai to shuttle materia many years before the war. This system had also been bringing the soldiers supplies, which had thankfully kept them alive. But the tunnels could not last forever, sooner or later Shinra troops would infiltrate them and the Wutaians would be completely trapped.

            And so the Wutaians needed a plan, some way to save themselves when the Shinra army struck. Podran had been sent the map in hopes that he could come up with something. He had never been a master strategist, but apparently General Staniv had liked his defense of Chamuri Base quite a bit. He had managed to come up with a few ideas for breaking the siege though.

            He knew that the help of the Wutaian air force would be needed, because the Shinra would most likely be bringing theirs. He also knew that they had to hold the tunnels at all costs, for in a worst case situation they could always retreat through them. His main idea though was that they couldn't be afraid the harm the landscape if absolutely necessary. In Wutai such an emphasis was put on nature that defacing it was seen as an atrocity. But Podran knew that passes could be closed off by fallen rock and that trenches were always helpful, among other things. These things could save many lives, and in the end that would be what mattered.

            The ideas weren't much, but he was still pretty proud of himself. He hadn't even been a major that long, not to mention a strategist. He just hoped that he had enough time to come up with something more. Because he was certain that when the Shinra army struck it would be on a titanic scale.

Note – As usual I am quite sorry for how long this took. I think this one may have taken the longest yet, I'm not sure. I haven't had too much time lately with school and soccer and all. And this summer I was basically a little lazy and kind of uncreative so yeah. Also I will admit that I have never been drunk, and so if my portrayal of drunkenness and /hangovers is grossly wrong please correct me. I was thinking too that most people probably don't remember Commanders Arkanian and Kahne since they've only popped up two or three times in the story and not been of much importance. So I decided to sort of reintroduce them, cause I plan on having them play a somewhat larger part in the ending few chapters. Thanks again for reading, I hope that the next chapter will go a bit quicker than this one.


	23. Pitching Forward

Chapter 23

Pitching Forward

            _Sun, don't set on us just yet, give us a few more hours in this endless day. A few more hours for us to end this war._

            Lord Godo had taken a position he found himself in quite often, standing in the warmth of the sun on the balcony outside of his office. He'd chosen a yellow robe for the day, part of his wife's attempt to try and add a bit of variety to his wardrobe. So far yellow was the only color aside from white that he'd agreed to, anything else would be too drastic of a change at the moment.

"Our scouts reported that the large Shinra camp outside of the mountains is still quiet," briefed Staniv from inside the office.

            He'd come to deliver his daily report, though on the particular day he didn't have much to report. That would seem like a blessing to most, but in such an uncertain war inactivity could mean many things; most of them not good. Godo didn't turn around to acknowledge the information, but Staniv knew he was listening, and so from the carved dragon stool in the corner that he tended to favor the general continued. 

            "Major Podran reports that it's been decided that Chamuri Base is repairable."

            Godo nodded silently, and Staniv didn't even bother to look up before moving on.

            "And then in the intelligence field; the informant that gave us the information that helped us win at Chamuri Base hasn't made contact for over a week now," said Staniv in a slightly worried tone.

            The news prompted the leader of Wutai to angle his head to the side and reply.

            "Is that considered a long time?" he asked skeptically.

            Staniv nervously adjusted the clasp on his dark cloak and answered, "Not incredibly long, but somewhat noticeable…"

            "Patience, young Staniv. I have a feeling that our enigmatic informant isn't worrying too much about having let a week go by without correspondence," pointed out the lord as he ran his strong hand over the cool railing of the balcony.

            Staniv's upper body stiffened at his leader's rebuke as he sat up straighter on the stool.

            "Sir I wasn't suggesting that anything large was up, I was just letting you know…"

            "Yes, I realize that. Don't let it bother you, according to my daughter I tell people to be patient quite often," comforted Godo with a smile as he turned around.

            Lord Godo drifted back into his office and picked up an incredibly smooth stone that he'd found on one of his journeys down to the water up off of his desk.

            "If a few more weeks go by without any sign of the person you may send out an agent to check on things," authorized Godo.

            Since Wutaian resources were very limited, Staniv served as both the General of the Wutaian Army and the Chief of Intelligence; but since there were no intelligence operatives he was pretty much his own boss.

            "We don't have any agents to send," stated Staniv frankly.

            Godo sighed and turned back to the warmth of the balcony. 

            "All we need is more resources and we'd actually stand a chance, but instead we're a shadow of our old selves, at our lowest point in history. I would believe that the gods had turned their eyes away from us if the thought didn't send a shudder up my back. These are dark times, and the Shinra know it," said Godo, curling his long toes inwards on top of his thatched sandals.

            "That shouldn't be all that surprising though, my lord. The Shinra always strike at people when they are the weakest, they look for the weakest in the pack and go after them. As you said, they can see we're at a low point, and so they've attacked us. They don't like going up against even odds," commented Staniv, standing up to deliver his point.

            "They do indeed lack any true understanding of honor; but I'll concede that their military is much more sophisticated and better trained than ours. Our soldiers are just too young, most of them have received all of their training over the course of the past month; not nearly long enough to become a true defender of our country," rebutted Godo.

            "Sir most of them haven't even had an opportunity to fight, and there just aren't enough of them to lead an open attack on any Shinra forces…" defended the general with a bit of an edge to his voice.

            "Don't worry, General, I'm not trying to question your army. I'm only stating the truth, the Shinra military is better trained than ours. They have seasoned veterans who have been with them since the first war, and that is where our problem lays; the first war. Back then we had a force to rival theirs; we actually put up a fight. Of course in the end they came with the greater numbers and defeated us, but our men didn't give up until the gods finally beckoned them to their appointment with death. They had that fierce determination that you can't train," reminisced the lord as he paced slowly in front of a window.

            Staniv knew all of this, he'd served in the ranks with the very men that Godo glorified, but he let his leader continue anyway. 

            "They were all killed though; Shinra knew that they had to kill them all. That's how they work; they make sure their enemies are crippled beyond help, no longer a threat. We're not going down quite so easily though; we've gotten up off our feet. We've gotten our heads about us and begun to strengthen our arms and legs. We're still weak, but making a fairly fast recovery. Of course they noticed this, and decided that they need to stop us from returning to the way our country should be. Even though we had no intention of ever fighting with them again, they started this ordeal anyway. And so now everyday we have to put our hopes on young soldiers who've never even truly seen war."

            Staniv had quietly waited through the speech to reply, and now it was his turn.

            "Lord Godo, our men may be young and new, but they've got a lot in them; they'll put up the best fight that they can," praised Staniv.

            Godo sighed and turned his back to the brilliant sun.

            "Well, if putting up a good fight is all we can ask of them, then I suppose we'll have to settle for that."

****

            President Shinra sat back in his large chair, engulfed by its thick covering of leather. One somewhat pudgy hand was slowly unclenching on his massive desk as he emitted a sigh of annoyance.

            "Rotterdam is better at playing detective than I thought he was going to be," he observed.

            A few feet in front of the desk stood the sinister executives Scarlet and Heidegger; anxious to see how their co-worker would be dealt with by the great Shinra.

            "Sir, we need to deal with him before he exposes our secret, though honorable, intentions," warned Heidegger viciously as he shifted back and forth on his beefy legs.

            The president just ignored the piggish man and turned his head to the much more pleasant looking Scarlet.

            "We shouldn't kill him quite yet, sir. Why not just put him somewhere out of the way, where he can't cause any trouble?" suggested the bleached-blond executive, flashing the president a fake look of enticement.

            At this the leader of Shinra Inc. sat up in interest, pronouncing multiple folds of fat under his chin and on the back of his neck.

            "I like the idea Miss Scarlet, please tell me more," he asked, looking at her playfully, though he ended up just looking like he was mentally challenged.

            Scarlet rearranged her red high-heeled feet aimlessly.

            "We could send him off on a 'diplomatic mission', somewhere very far away," she said, dropping all signs of sexual intentions from her eyes.

            "Let's send him to Mideel; it's in the middle of nowhere and they can't even talk right out there," said Heidegger, trying to help but failing miserably as he roughly pulled at his beard out of boredom.

            Shinra swiveled in his chair by aid of a small motor to look at a large map of the world behind him on one wall.

            "Even Mideel is too civilized, besides there are already people there," he pointed out as he pushed the chair back and stood up somewhat laboriously.

            The small man walked over to the map and surveyed possible locations. His finger slowly moved around the scaled down version of their world, which spanned an entire wall from floor to ceiling.

            "What about Bone Village, sir?" asked Scarlet hopefully.

            The president's sausage-like finger came to rest on a small dot near the top of the map with no marks indicating that any Shinra officials had ever been stationed there before.

            "Perfect, it's about time we extended our reach a bit. Write a message telling him about all this, say whatever you want; just get him far away from here," the president ordered as he moved back towards his chair.

            "What about Reeve? He won't help us against Rotterdam. The police reported that he tried to bribe some of their officers earlier today to find out stuff about the crash site," cautioned Heidegger.

            The president stopped before he reached his chair and looked up at the man, steadying himself on his desk which he wasn't much taller than.

            "Let him search all he wants. He'll never have the balls to come out with any of it; he's probably been too afraid to even keep talking to Rotterdam lately. He knows his place, he won't try anything."

****

            Contrary to what the president believed, Reeve had actually been in fairly close contact with the vice-president lately. He'd even managed to bribe enough different law enforcement officials to gain access to the crash site of the "training accident".

            The half completed structure had been utterly destroyed, nothing but a lone steel beam which vaguely resembled a monolith stood. Construction equipment had been mangled beyond recognition and shards of glass were dangerously strewn across the ground. Metal had been melted, crushed and blown into a thousand pieces across an area equal to a city block. And of course, right where they should be, chunks of the three fighters were tossed about in varying states of death and explosion. The only distinguishable parts of the fighters were a few crumpled wings, half of some fuselage and a scrap of metal with the Shinra logo on it. Conveniently enough the pilots' bodies had been burned or blown into many pieces, or had they ever been there in the first place?

            It seemed like there was such an abundance of evidence, but in reality it gave Reeve nothing. He knew that there had to be something on the site to prove his theory, yet he had no idea where to look. For all he knew the Shinra forces had already wiped the place clean of any trace. 

            _There has to be something here, Shinra you bastard. You're pretty good at this bullshit but not quite good enough if I've gotten this far…_

            As he carefully walked over and through the layers of soot and debris he realized his brown leather shoes were getting scuffed and dirty. At the thought he quickly reprimanded himself, much more important things were at hand. Like taking the abusive bastard President Shinra down from his throne, stripping him of his growing power, cutting off his genitals and throwing him into a jail cell somewhere. 

            _Need to focus, revenge comes later._

Of course first he had to prove that Shinra Inc. had blown up three of their own fighters and a promising new building project. 

_Doesn't seem to make sense does it, pal. Destroying your own property, erasing three human beings from known existence? Bet it makes perfect sense for you though, just like it made sense to taint her with your meaty goddamn fist every night. And it probably made plenty of sense to drive her and your child into hiding, your own goddamn wife._

The thoughts made Reeve stop in his tracks and wince. He noticed that the air had lost its warmth, and he was glad he'd kept his black suit jacket on for the trip. 

_Focus, he'll pay eventually_.  

The executive made his way around the site aimlessly until something caught his eye. Reeve quickly walked over to a section of scratched, but shiny metal that was buried beneath a pile of ash. He uncovered it mostly with the sole of his shoe and bent down to retrieve his newly found treasure. As he stood back up he found himself holding a cylindrical, shiny metal object roughly three feet long and heavier than would be expected. It was covered with a thin layer of grime which sank into the creases in the palm of his hand, a fact which he tried to ignore.

It appeared that there was some sort of engraving or writing but the layer of dirt and ash obscured it. Reeve feverishly rubbed it away with his thumb for a minute or so until he could read what turned out be a set of characters engraved in the metal.

"**DEM-41387-CR**"

_"DEM", what the hell is "DEM"? _

_Shit, obviously "DEM" stands for demolition!_

A faulty demolition charge that'd never exploded due to any number of possibilities. The implications were blatant, especially after Reeve's discovery in the Shinra construction database the week before. Shinra had stockpiled extra demolition charges from various projects and planted them all over the site Reeve was presently standing on. And now he had one of the objects in question right in his hand; solid physical evidence. He'd run the serial number through the database just to make sure, but he was willing to bet his life's earnings on the fact that it was one of the "extra" charges. 

_Score.___

It all fit together so well, and was so surprisingly accessible with a little initiative that the executive almost wondered if there was more to it. But as quickly as the thought had come it left. 

_Shinra just didn't cover their backs. They've got no idea that anyone has any idea about what they've got going. Damn will old Shinra feel this one in the gut; maybe he'll even have a heart attack or something, fucker._

Nurturing thoughts of his swine of a boss dying by increasingly terrible methods, Reeve walked out of the crash site, donning designer sunglasses to shield his eyes from the brightening sun.

****

            Ever since I "officially" became a commander, I've had to do some of the most annoying shit. I never knew you had to sign so many damn papers when you're in the air force. Aside from a few sim runs for fun, this is practically all I've been doing, just reading reports and signing documents. I'm so backed up I haven't even had lunch yet. They tried to give me Nairne's old tent but I didn't want anything to do with it. The thing is so creepy, it even kinda smells like him: a mix of booze and greasiness. So instead I hauled the old table he'd had into our bunk tent and set up shop. I've practically lived at the thing since, and that ain't easy. The end of June ain't exactly the best time to be stuck in a stuffy, old tent. But I'll make it through, only a couple more papers to get through. Like this one about…oh you've gotta be kidding me. It says that I'm s'posed to report to a meeting that started ten minutes ago. I'm not even gonna bother read what it's about, not enough time.

            I bolted out the door in my basic brown pants/ white undershirt combo, and soon slid to a halt in front of Kahne's tent. I could already hear talking and knew I was screwed. Maybe I can play it like I don't know I'm late, yeah…that's what I'll do. I opened the door and saw Kahne, Arkanian and the head tech; don't really know or care what his name is. Kahne and the head tech sat in metal chairs on opposite sides of the tent, and Arkanian stood somewhere in the middle. All three were in various states of annoyance, Kahne being the worst. A vein was already beginning to show on his forehead, not a good sign.

            "Ah, Lieutenant. Good to finally see you, my name is Steven," introduced the head tech.

            I don't care what your name is.

            A second later, my plan of pretending I didn't know I was late died instantly.

            "Lieutenant Highwind, where the hell have you been?" shouted Kahne, more irritated than angry.

            "Um, sir is that rhetorical or do you really wanna know where I was?"

            He just kept on staring at me.

            "Paper work, sir. I was so into it I couldn't stop…" I replied, looking him right in the eyes.

            Kahne just shook his balding, sweaty head and turned back to the head tech.

            Like Arkanian, I decided to stand and participate as little as possible in the meeting.

            "Before you arrived we were discussing some sort of 'secret weapon' we could develop for use in the remainder of the war. So far we haven't been able to come up with much," summarized tech boy Steve.

            Secret weapon? This sounds like some cheesy old Midgar war movie.

            "Hell, why not build a giant laser beam mounted on a rolling platform pulled by chocobos?" I suggested.

            "You may have something there," complimented Steve, and he seemed kind of serious.

            Oh come on, there's no way they're gonna go for that.

            "You ain't serious…" I started.

            "Of course he's not," spat Kahne.

            I looked over to see that Arkanian had a bit of a smirk going.

            "The actual idea would never work, but the basic principle would. Who says a secret weapon has to be small and well, secretive looking? It doesn't necessarily have to be deadly either," spouted tech man rhetorically.

            Leave it to these guys to actually get something out of what I said.

            "Well if it isn't deadly and secretive what the hell is the point?" asked Kahne kind of rudely as he pulled out a stained white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

            "Recon planes aren't deadly or all that secretive in terms of size, but they're still a good card to be able to hold against your enemy," explained Steve.

            Kahne seemed a bit less confused but he was prob'ly just pretending he got it.

            "Whatever we come up with prob'ly won't end up being used right or something when the time comes. Our communications and decisions suck up in the air when we're busy fighting." I added.

            Arkanian nodded, agreeing.

            "He's right; it's tough to make good calls while you're busy trying to stop someone from killing ya. If this thing was sent out with us, someone _would_ probably deploy it incorrectly," supported Arkanian.

            "The communication system isn't that bad," defended Kahne.

            I looked over at Arkanian, who was now standing stiffly and decided to let her take this.

            "Sir, if our communications had been better, you wouldn't have lost all those pilots when you made the run on that tower last month," pointed out the female commander.

            It was harsh, but I was thinkin' the same thing, somebody had to say it.

            Kahne just sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a minute, blowing out a stream of air in surprise.

            "All right, you've made your point. I still don't know what you think you can create that will enhance our communications though," gave in Kahne questioningly.

            Arkanian had relaxed a little bit and decided to answer this one too.

            "If we could even just have some kind of higher up, commanding officer who could help us with orders on the fly," she suggested.

            "Well we could solve that fairly easily if I just flew on the missions with you," persisted Kahne.

            No good, pal.

            "Then we just come back to the same problem though. You'll be too busy flying to be able to focus on giving orders. We need something where a commanding officer could theoretically have total concentration while in the battle," explained Arkanian.

            "I could possibly modify a fighter to hold two people, one controlling it and one along for the ride commanding…" said our resident techie, obviously not getting the point.

            "No, that wouldn't work! We just keep talking around the same issue here. A modified fighter would still be just about as vulnerable as a regular one…" reprimanded Arkanian, throwing her arms up agitatedly in the process.

            This could go on forever; Arkanian was right, we just kept coming back to square one. Whoa, Square One is a store I went to once back in Midgar. It's got all these toys and models and junk. There was this one really big model of an airship hanging from the ceiling, and it was definitely the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen…

            "We oughta make an airship, they're the coolest fucking things ever." I blurted out accidentally.

            Everyone just stopped and looked at me like I'd just gone and joined the Wutes, just plain amazed.

            "Yes!" shouted Stevie, almost getting a little too excited.

            "There'd be plenty of room for a command center, and it'd be much safer than a regular fighter," realized Arkanian.

            "But is it feasible?" questioned Kahne.

            "I'm not sure, but I can draw up a plan right away. It should work if I'm thinking about it right," answered Steve anxiously.

            "You can head up the project since it was your idea, Highwind," said Kahne, turning towards me.

            Oh come on that's just what I need, more to do.

What a great way to spend the summer.

****

            Deep inside the growing beast of Shinra Incorporated lay its gnarled claw that no one liked to talk about because of its sheer hideousness. No one spoke of this feature, but they all silently acknowledged its deadly presence: the Turks.

            It was shaping up to be a rather nice afternoon in Midgar, but the tanned man with his black ponytail would never have known that. His office had no windows for security reasons, in fact his office was lacking in many amenities. It consisted only of a small gray metal desk, which was empty and a scuffed folding metal chair. On one corner of the desk was a basic laptop and overhead hung a very simple pull-chain light bulb. This was all the man needed, for he tried to spend as little time in the room as possible. He really only used it to receive messages off of his laptop.

            The man had come into his office after a rigorous workout down in the weight room and a quick shower to check for any new directives from the higher-ups. Normally most orders came from Scarlet since she led the Weapons Dept. and the Turks fell under that category. As the man clicked his way into the message system he found that there was a new message, but not from Scarlet. Its sender was labeled only as "Military Command". The text that followed prompted the man to close his eyes for a moment and lower his head, which caused a drop of water to slip off of his glistening black hair onto the keyboard below.

            When he opened his eyes he read through the brief message once more before truly absorbing its importance. In two sentences it asked him to do something that could put a stop to potential volumes of history and wisdom.

            "Eliminate Godo by any means necessary. Preferably with minimal extraneous loss of life," it read.

            The writer hadn't even recognized the great man's title, _Lord_ Godo. Tseng was being asked to murder the leader of his native country. He knew one thing right away: that he couldn't do it himself. He'd have to get another operative to take the mission, and it would be quite complicated. He hastily shut his laptop and stood up, shuddering as he walked out of his office into the main room. The main room was a bit more interesting than Tseng's office, but still fairly sparse.

            In the center of the room was a large, round metal table with built in benches that'd been stolen from a local park and repainted black. The common theme of the room was dark and metallic with the walls a faded black color and the floor and ceiling panels gray corrugated steel. The other main fixtures of the room were a curved red couch, accompanied by a sizeable flat screen TV, a computer terminal with a vast database of top secret information, a recessed wall with an opening and closing panel that housed a varying selection of killing devices, and a hallway out to the rest of the building. The room also held a few other flat surfaces, which the new replacement Reno had already begun to fill with heaps of assorted junk; ranging from dirty magazines to hamburger wrappers.

            Tseng sat down on the combo table-bench with his back leaning against the table and thought once again. He refused to do the mission, though he would be the logical choice because of his anonymous Wutaian features. The mission would take time as well, he couldn't be away from the base for so long. An operative would have to become slowly swallowed by the society to even have a chance to get close enough to Lord Godo; it could be at least a month if not more. Two operatives might even be necessary, it would be a costly mission indeed. Lio was the obvious first choice since he was half Wutaian, but who would be the second? Both Rude and Reno were relatively new, though Rude was more experienced by a couple of months. He'd had his chance to prove himself on a mission already though, with a weapon that he detested at that. Reno seemed more charismatic, more able to blend in socially, but could he keep himself in check?            

            A moment later Reno and Rude returned from their training session in the fitness room. Reno was obviously annoyed and slightly angry, while Rude was calm, though it seemed his patience had been taxed a bit.

            "Who cares how many of those fucking weights I can pick up? I can pull myself up and that's all that matters. Besides, I can run faster than you," complained Reno as he dropped onto the couch angrily.

            "They're different things; what good does speed do when you're jumped? You have to force your opponent off before you can use your amazing speed to run away," rebuked Rude, rubbing a corner of the towel hanging around his neck over his bare head.

            Tseng emotionlessly turned to face the two of them, tucking his legs under the table in the process.

            "You are both wrong. Upper body strength and speed, among other attributes, must be at their full potential before you can be at your maximum performance outside," corrected Tseng, gesturing towards an outside wall.

            Reno just snorted in dismissal and turned on the TV as Rude came over to sit across from Tseng.

            "You look mentally worn out, Rude. Which is surprising because I thought you two could work together; or so you told me," probed the leader.

            A mix of slight embarrassment and disappointment in having lied to his boss washed over Rude's face.

            "We could, and we did," replied Rude vaguely.

            Tseng's eyes studied Rude's intensely.

            "Rude, you're a horrible liar. I know there's more to it than that but I don't really care to hear about it right now."

            "Yes, sir. I know; and thanks"

            "Well whether or not you two can get over your little spat notwithstanding, is he ready for a deep infiltration mission?"

            Rude seemed surprised that Tseng was actually asking him for advice.

            "I haven't been here that long…" protested Rude.

            "If you couldn't do this job you would be gone by now. You know the answer, just tell me."

            Rude glanced over at Reno quickly, who was drifting off in an awkward position while struggling to keep his focus on the TV.

            "No," stated Rude quietly.

            This confirmed what Tseng had already begun to expect.

            "Alright, you and Lio are going to Wutai tomorrow," said Tseng quickly as he got up from the table.

            "What's the mission?" asked Rude, startled.

            "Hurting people and causing trouble. Isn't it always?"

****

            There must have been a concise mood amongst the Shinra command chain, because like Tseng, the message Rotterdam received on his laptop was also merely two sentences long, yet very important. Though unlike Tseng who had no idea whom the sender had been, Rotterdam's was labeled as being from Scarlet.

            "Under our new diplomatic expansion program you've been indefinitely assigned to the settlement of Bone Village. Transport will arrive at 3:00 on the East Landing Platform," it read.

            The second the vice-president's brain finished processing the message his stomach sank. He knew that from Bone Village he'd be useless, and rather helpless too. He actually wasn't even sure that he knew where Bone Village was, aside from very far away. It was obvious why they'd send him off; he was too near to unveiling everything. He knew what the puzzle was supposed to look like, and he had most of the inside pieces in place, but a few stray edge pieces were missing. All he needed was some solid proof; something to substantiate what he knew to be reality.

            As he got up from the leather couch where he'd held his laptop in his flat he felt a slight breeze against his exposed chest. He walked over to a large black, metal-framed casement window to push it open to allow more air inside, donned in his wrinkled dress pants and a white shirt that was both un-buttoned and un-tucked. The wind intensified and ruffled his short hair as much as it could, but he didn't move away from it, instead letting it flow around him.

            The city was bustling even in the high-end sector that his flat was in, though most of the people probably didn't even know the truth behind the war. They never doubted their president for a second, instead just accepted his words as the truth. They had no idea how the whole mess had been started, but if they heard the truth would they even believe it? If he exposed it all, would Rotterdam just be passed off as some crazy usurper and then locked away in a black pit of a cell, or would the people realize that their leader had lied to them? Would they realize that he was nothing more than a short, fat, rich man with an incredible lust for money and land? 

            The news would be twisted to make things look like Rotterdam had been out for the presidency; no one would ever believe him.

            It was barely worth the effort, the attempts at secrecy, working overtime sifting through files and passing his tiredness at work off to his co-workers as a slight case of insomnia. 

Reeve would probably be glad for the whole ordeal to be over too, no matter how much he loathed the president. Although he had left a message on Rotterdam's answering machine in a slightly unintelligibly excited tone about having some sort of physical evidence that had matched up with previous research when he ran it through a database. Rotterdam had found some slight joy in the news but knew it wasn't the end. He also knew that even though Reeve had had the courage to traverse the crash site and do some research, he was still probably constantly in fear of losing his job, his chance at a decent future. Rotterdam had no such worries; he had no family, no prospects and of course no love for his work. If he was fired the next day he would be thrilled, for then he'd no longer have to furtively conduct his investigation. But of course then he'd be completely vulnerable to Shinra's secret police, and that would be the end.

            He knew that he didn't want to go that way, that was one thing he was resolutely certain of. He still had enough dignity to not want to be shot in some grimy back alley, and tossed in a dumpster to be forgotten and erased. Ideally he'd like to be in control of when he died, but that was of course nearly impossible. As the thought passed through his head, Rotterdam placed his hands on the windowsill and leaned forward slightly out into the blustery, relentless world outside.

            _I could just let go right here; drop ten stories to the ground. I'd be in control of my death; I'd keep some honor to my name. And it'd all go away, the whole mess would no longer be my problem. Let someone else deal with it, or don't do anything about it at all._

_Just get it out of my life. _

_            All it would take would be to lean out of the window enough to tip out. Nothing rapid or violent, just gracefully ease out the window._

            The vice-president tucked the front portions of his gray sock clad feet up under a dormant heater running beneath the window and slowly jutted his body into the rays of the sun. He tried not to look down, but it was predictably useless. Directly below his window was what looked like a mother pushing a young baby in a stroller. If he were to fall out of the room he'd wait for them to pass, they didn't need to be involved. The baby had dropped something though, they stood in his space longer than they needed to. 

His body needed to be flush against the concrete, that space was reserved for him. He leaned out the window more, as if to yell at the woman below.

_Move! Go! Fucking go! I need to be in that spot, I'm late for an important appointment. Just let me go for fuck's sake! _

His body was almost perpendicular to the windowsill now, his shirt blown open around him. He could feel the strain on the muscles in the back of his legs as his feet became the only things holding him inside of his flat.

_I should have exercised more, gone running around this damn neighborhood. I would have become fat and demented just like him. Power-hungry, greedy, evil, old and disgusting; I would be all these things as I rotted in an office. I would never become president, I would watch that fuck Rufus make his inauguration speech as I sweated in the back corner. I'd never even find anyone I loved, reducing me to having sex with filthy whores in my king-sized bed, using all of my ill-earned money. Hopefully the drinks would eventually kill me, or maybe too many pills, or a gun to blow my brains all over my fine silk bed sheets. _

The woman and her child had finally moved on, the scuffed gray square of concrete was open. It was Rotterdam's turn, his appointment was up.

**_The time for his appointment had finally come, the doctor had been running late, but now his door was open; all _****_Rotterdam_****_ had to do was step inside. Step inside to die._**

Or in the present case step outside.

**_Rotterdam gave the doctor a quick nod and finished the sentence he'd been on in an article of an outdated health magazine about acrophobia-- the fear of heights--that he'd found on one of the fake-wood end tables._**

_All over in a second, so easy, so quick…_

The wind buffeted his unshaven face and swirled around him furiously. He hung out even further into the sky.

**_He stood up from his chair in the waiting room._**

All he had to do was let go of the radiator. His legs burned from the strain that they were so unused to. They begged for a break, they'd had enough of a workout for the time being. 

Yet the final step of letting go was much more formidable than he'd anticipated.

**_He knelt down to tie his shoe in front of the red, upholstered chair; single knot, no a double knot._**

_Quick, easy, all over in a matter of seconds.__ The wind will probably feel nice… Yes, it'll feel incredible, washing over me. Now only a simple matter of gravity, let go and it'll pull…_

**_Both shoes were tied tightly, he was ready; he stood up and began to walk towards the door._**

His feet started to slip off of the radiator as he felt his body tilt forward. 

**_It was happening, he was going to his long awaited check-up, it was his turn, time for his appointment. The doctor smiled and extended his hand to be shaken; the fingers appeared to be long, knobby and skeletal, like bones. _**

****

**_Greetings, Dr. Death._****__**

It'd all be over, all the bullshit of life left behind.

"Mr. Rotterdam!" came a voice from outside the door to his flat.

His heart almost stopped dead as he felt the overwhelming sensation of his body pitching out into the air. His arms reflexively shot up from his sides to grab the wooden window casing on the wall inside. 

With a burst of strength that fully broke his trance he propelled himself back into the room and slid into a disheveled heap; halfway onto his thick carpet. 

A trio of knocks came.

"Mr. Rotterdam, I'm here to take you to the transport."

The man's middle-aged heart raced inside of his chest as he exhaled a massive burst of air from his panicked torso. He could feel his shoulder blades and head aching from the impact with the hardwood floor between the window and the carpet as he closed his eyes.

"Mr. Rotterdam, sir are you ready to go?" shouted the courier anxiously.

_No, I am not ready to go._

_Note_ - It's been way too long, something like six months I believe. Like I said in my earlier post, I don't know what my problem was. The chapter was just so goddamn boring, and I think I may be one of those people who gets depressed in winter; who knows. The point is, I sort of had my reasons, though they weren't all that good. As for the chapter itself in terms of writing and such I think it came out fairly well in the end, though I'll still always hate it with a burning passion. I've decided to try something a bit new with inserting italicized first person into any scenes that need it rather than my old method of funkily throwing something into the middle of a paragraph that was really more of a thought than a narrative. And also, before anyone says anything, yes maybe Rude talked more than you're used to, but I'm one of those people who hates the silent Rude stereotype, and so I figured he could use some decent lines. Finally, the Rotterdam scene; hopefully you understood what was going on, and hopefully it seemed relevant to the rest of the scene. That was a tricky scene to do, though I think it all tied together well in the end. And now the constant issue of grammar; Kiyara says some of the grammar in here is atrocious, and I believe her. Do I care all that much? Not really, I never paid attention when we did grammar in school, and I still don't today. I'll probably address grammar issues in a final rewrite, but for now, deal with it. 

Lastly, for a while now I've been itching to write an original story. I've just been feeling the constraints of fanfiction too much. I've decided to take a bit of a break from Sun, though it probably won't be any longer than any of the gaps there've between chapters. In that break I'm going to start up my lovely new original story, because I just want a bit of creative freedom. Now don't get me wrong, I love Sun but I need a break. So keep your eyes out over at fictionpress.net for a fantastic new story by yours truly. Until then, thanks for reading thus far and I'll have another chapter done for this hopefully not incredibly far off into the future.


End file.
